


A Place To Store My Random Shit So I Won't Lose It

by GertieCraign, HazelDomain



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble Collection, Gen, M/M, Scene Outlines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-12 16:38:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 43,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7941595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GertieCraign/pseuds/GertieCraign, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelDomain/pseuds/HazelDomain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This collection of crap is exactly what the title says it is: an unordered grouping of small scenes and snippets that popped into my head while I was trying to write a proper fic, and that needed to be written down somewhere immediately or be lost for an unspecified amount of time in the jammed-packed and woefully mislabeled set of file drawers I call a mind.<br/>If you enjoy reading scenes that seemingly come out of nowhere and then abruptly end, this is the place for you, my friend! Much of what's written in here will eventually find a nice new home inside a longer fic. Until then, it will remain here...in the swirling office temp-pool, waiting for a shot at permanent placement.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Gum

**Author's Note:**

> Dear Reader, please enjoy, but Enter At Your Own Risk! I will most likely not put any trigger warnings on anything in here, since this is pretty much a scratchpad. Most of this stuff won't be uber trigger-y, but some bits could be and I don't want any of you getting hurt, so... You know yourself...Read responsibly! :-)
> 
> One trigger button I will never push: I will never harm an animal in any story I write. I'll fuck up a whole metric shit-ton of people, especially the characters I really like, but I will never, ever do anything like that bullshit they pulled with the horse in Ep. 1 of 'The Walking Dead'. (*shudders* I'm still pissed at them for that.)
> 
> Lastly, I desperately need feedback. I started writing in earnest when I was 15, which was a long, long, LONG time ago, but never let people read my work. But over the last couple of months my new online BFF HazelDomain, AO3 Author-extraordinaire and the new God of my writing world, helped me grow the brass balls necessary to overcome my insecurities and finally start publishing some stuff, so... I really, really want to know what you all think. I NEED to know. I've found that I thrive on feedback. Without it, I cave. Help...HELP ME!!!  
> (*plays Orff's Carmina Burana, in background*)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most likely will be part of: 'The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date' (Working Title)
> 
> Cas accidentally steals Sam's gum.

*During the back hallway kissing scene ('The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date')

 

The kiss ended abruptly, as Cas opened one eye and rolled his head to the side. His mouth was still on Sam's, but only pressed to the corner, now. Sam was slowly opening his eyes, his face a stoic mask. They both watched the backs of the people who'd passed by. As the group made it's way around the corner at the end of the hall, they whispered excitedly and threw very quick, blushing glances over their shoulders, until they were out of sight.  
Finally, Cas pulled away, releasing Sam and helping to straighten his friend's shirt, where he'd groped at it. “I think they bought it,” he said, looking up at Sam. And then his face fell. He made a quick tour around his own mouth and began chewing.  
Sam closed his eyes again. “Dude...is that...my gum?”  
The question took the mild confusion from Cas's face. He grunted, softly. “It appears to have traveled into my mouth during the kiss. My apologies. Would you like it back?”  
“Keep it, Cas.”  
“I'd prefer not to.”  
“Just swallow it!” Sam grabbed his date's arm and began leading him down the hall. Cas obediently swallowed and quickened his pace to try to keep up with Sam's now very long, very determined stride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HazelDomain - a spectacularly good SPNFic writer, and my lovely, wonderful, fabulously well-informed & helpful new friend - deserves a huge amount of credit for this bit of drabble being posted out here on AO3. It is the first thing I've written that I've posted anywhere...ever. And I'm terrified. Seriously. Like...I should probably go and pee, before I click "Post"...that level of terrified.  
> Also, an enormous shout out to SWAMPBOT, my bestie of 25+ years and the whole reason I started watching SPN again after an 8 year hiatus! If she hadn't convinced me that we really should watch every episode of every season while I was visiting her, back in February of this year, my life would be very, very different and much less happy right now. Thank you so much! I'm having more fun than I've had since college, and that's not an exaggeration. This has been the most re-invigorating and creative time I can remember, and I owe that in part to you. I love you.
> 
> So, HazelDomain and Swampbot...each of you raise a glass of whatever strong stuff you've got, in a toast to yourself. You've officially created a monster.


	2. How to Make a Winchester Blush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of: 'The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date' (not yet written - WIP)
> 
> Sam tells Dean the story of the method Cas decided to use to make him blush. There's much laughter, before they both realize they probably need to limit their friend's access to porn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was more to this, but the other part sucked and will need a full re-write. So, here's the part that was good enough to keep, even though it'll still need some work.

*('The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date')

 

Dean had been chuckling throughout Sam's whole speech, trying very hard to picture Cas as the stud at the party, and failing. Sure, he'd looked spectacular, all sharped up in his expensive new suit, but...this was _Cas_ they were talking about. Dean found he simply couldn't shake the over-riding mental image of his friend in that dumpy outfit, tucked into the corner of the backseat of the Impala, head lolled back and snoring...just a pasty white neck and under-chin, glowing in the light of each street lamp they passed beneath. The guy Sam was describing did not line up with that image.

“And it kinda sucks when you're out there dancing your ass off... really workin for it, and you look over and your date, who's just leaning against the bar, is somehow burning the damned club down around you!”

Dean was laughing hard enough now that tears were rolling down his cheeks. Sam's mix of horror and delight in the retelling of the story was perfect.

“Dude,” Sam said through almost constant giggles, “It's ten times more fucked up when you remember your date... is _Cas_!”

Dean roared. His little brother's dramatic storytelling had always been able to destroy him, but Sam was out-doing himself. After wiping under his eyes with one hand, Dean managed to say, “Ah, yeah...that's gotta sting.”

“I didn't know whether I wanted to go hug him for doin a good job, or beat his ass for showin me up!”

The two of them sat there and laughed for a good five minutes longer, as Sam relayed a few more details of the rapidly-becoming-infamous Sam/Cas date. He finally got to the part he'd been waiting all day to tell Dean - how Cas had chosen to execute his Make-Sam-Blush idea.

“At this point, he figures that a great way to sell it would be to whisper something in my ear and make me blush, and they'd see that...'cause it's really hard to fake a blush, right?”

“Right, right,” Dean nodded along, grinning like a fiend, in anticipation of where this was going.

“So...he grabs my tie,” Sam says, roughly grabbing the front of his own shirt, “and pulls me down so he's right in my ear,” He's continuing to physically reenact each move and gesturing dramatically with his hand to show the position of Cas's face. “And, Dean...” he paused, shaking his head, already feeling the beginnings of a strong blush rushing to his face. “What he said...I can't even...” He had to stop entirely now. He leaned back in his chair, putting his hand over his eyes and continuing to shake his head.

“Holy shit!” Dean shouted. “You're blushing NOW!” Dean gaped at his brother with wide eyes and a gigantic, conspiratorial smile. “What the hell did he say?!”

Sam opened his mouth to speak, but just ended up turning even redder and leaned forward to rest both elbows on the table and cover his face with both hands. His laugh now a deep echo from within his cupped palms. “I can't even say it,” he finally managed to get out.

Dean threw his head back and roared. This was the best thing EVER, in his considered opinion and by God, he was gonna get it out of his brother.

“You CANNOT just throw that out there and then clam up! NOT cool, Sam!” He pounded a fist on the table, and the jolt made Sam lift his eyes up just above his fingertips, to look at him.

“I can't do it!” He dissolved into laughter again.

“TELL ME, you FUCKIN' GIRL!”

“Oh my God...Dean...it was ... filthy!” They were both nearing the point of losing any ability to speak. It was tough enough for Sam. But, because he still didn't know what had been said, Dean was rapidly running every scrap of dirty-talk from every porno he'd ever seen through an internal Cas-filter. Each and every naughty line was re-playing in a sad-sap tenor with perfect diction. He then added the visual of the blank stare and the head tilt, to the line, “You're so fucking hot. Unh! Come for me, baby,” and Dean damn near pissed himself.

“I'm sorry, man! I can't! I can't say it...I can't,” Sam pleaded.

“DAMMIT!” Dean boomed.

“But the good news is...I'm sure if you asked him, he'd happily look you right in the eye and repeat it word for nasty, filthy word,” Sam got out, before the laughing fit stopped him again. “Oh!” He shouted, teary-eyed and leaning forward urgently. “I forgot the REALLY fucked up part...”

Dean burst out laughing again. How could this possibly get any more NOT-OK?

“So...he's got his mouth right at my ear. And he finishes telling me this whole list of truly disturbing shit he's gonna to do to me later...”

Dean's laugh cuts Sam off. So Sam waits for a few beats before continuing.

“And he moves his face down so his nose fits right in here.” Sam put his fingertip into the little valley between his earlobe and the top of his neck. “And his mouth is open and he's panting on my neck...”

Dean's eyes were huge and fixed on his brother. He reminded Sam of a 10 year old listening to him tell the Hook Man story around the campfire for the first time.

“And, swear to God... the guy fucking GROWLED!”

“Oh, shit!”

“And I'm not talking about the trilling-your-R's or gargling kind of growl, I mean GROWLED. Like some...freakin...feral animal. Like, 'You're MINE, Bitch!' THAT kinda growl!”

Dean brought his fist up to cover his gaping mouth. The laughter had begun to die off in favor of the rising suspicion that he might need to have 'a little talk' with Cas...explain to him how what he sees in those videos is really not the best way to behave toward someone in real life.

Sam's thoughts were more or less the same. 

“I think we gotta start restricting his access to porn, dude.” Sam said. The giggles dying back a bit, now. “I'm a little worried about what he's 'learning'. I mean...if he got how to kiss like that, just from that one pizza guy...” Sam shuddered. “What if he finds the really crazy stuff?”

“You're suggesting we make sure one of us is always there when he's watching hard-core fetish porn, in case he has any questions?” Dean asked flatly, clearly nixing that idea.

“I'm saying we need to get him his own laptop... TOTALLY lock him out of YOURS, you freak...and start, you know...sorta hand-picking what he has available to watch. And yes, I'm sure there's a great double-entendre in what I just said, but shut up,” he warned, just as Dean's mouth opened to deliver said double-entendre. “He's kinda our responsibility, Dean. I just...wanna make sure we're raising him right.” Sam's face split into a huge grin again, and the giggles started back up.

Dean smirked. “So, you got molested by an angel, and now I gotta go have the porn talk with our son? That's what you're saying?”

“A boy needs his father, Dean,” Sam doped.

Dean stared at him.

“It always has to be me...,” he whined to no one in particular, then dropped his head down with a dramatic sigh and rose, reaching behind him to push his chair aside.

“And Dean...you know...whatever you're gonna say to him, just keep in mind...he really did a great job last night. He learned a ton of stuff in a very short time, and then went out there and freakin' killed it. I was proud of him. He should be proud of himself. So, just...whatever you tell him, make sure he doesn't think you're being, you know...critical or saying that he messed up. 'Cause he didn't.”

Dean pursed his lips, considering Sam's words for a moment, as he picked absently at the back rail of his chair. “Yeah,” he said, quietly, and pushed the chair under the table.

“Gotta encourage the boy!” Sam was clearly having far too much fun with this analogy, so Dean just started walking away, ignoring him. “We want him to grow up big and strong, just like his papa!” Sam yelled after Dean, as his brother sighed heavily and strode out of the library. He turned down the hallway toward the kitchen, in search of their wayward angel.

“So that one day,” Sam mumbled to himself, “he can be the Bad-Ass Dom of a big Leather Family.” The giggles began again, and he turned back to his laptop. He read for a moment, before he realized he was lightly rubbing the side of his neck. The blush crept back up his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so I caved and tried to come up with what Cas might have whispered into Sam's ear to make him blush.  
> Please see Chapter 9: 'What Cas Said'
> 
> It's my first attempt ever at creating dirty talk. Though I warn you, it's likely that your own imagination came up with something better than I did.
> 
> I've only run it past one person and she said it would be filthy enough to make Sam blush, so I'm hoping that's true. Or I've just blown their cover!
> 
> PS: Any suggestions to improve Cas's dirty talk would be thoroughly considered and appreciated. As I said...this is not my area. I will in no way take it as criticism if somebody else comes up with something much better than what I have. You would be cited, credited, adored.


	3. Mary's Call, Cas's Panic, and Dean's less-than-stellar labeling skills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of: 'The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date' (not yet written - WIP)
> 
> Dean is driving Sam and Cas back to the rendez-vous spot, to swap out vehicles, after getting them fitted into their new suits. Mary calls, from the bunker. 
> 
> ...In which, Dean's horrific labeling skills have led Mary to use the wrong herb in a utility spell, and now the kitchen and hall are rapidly filling with some weird, blue smoke and she doesn't know how to stop it or even if it's dangerous, 'cause God knows what was in that fucking jar, Dean!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so...there may be some changes, but...over all, this is just the Cas-Rushes-to-Mary's-Aid scene that I have in my head.  
> AND, NO... IT'S NOT 'CAUSE SHE'S A GIRL AND NEEDS HIM TO RESCUE HER, SO EVERYBODY JUST RELAX!  
> It's because she's a Winchester and protecting Winchesters is his damned job! 'Cause he loves them. And he has a soft, squishy center.
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: I now realize that the automatic garage door would be at the end of a very long tunnel, outside a set of wooden double doors (if there even is an automatic overhead door at the end of the tunnel at all.) So it would make these placements a bit odd. I'll have to correct for that during the rewrite.

* 'The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date'

 

 

"Quit eyein' Cas!  You're all over the road!" 

"He looks really different- You look really different, Cas", Dean said to the rear-view mirror. His eyes lingered there just a little too long, again. Sam wadded up the receipt from the bottled waters and pack of gum they'd just stopped to buy and threw it at his brother's head. Dean flinched, but said nothing and looked back at the road.

"Yes," Cas replied, after a long hesitation. He had no idea what Dean meant by that statement. Was it a question? A compliment? A masked insult? He only knew that 20 minutes ago, when he'd exited the tailor's fitting room, Sam had stared at him a long time and said exactly the same thing.

Castiel understood that his attire and mannerisms, during their time at the nightclub, would be of critical importance in the accomplishment of their mission. That had been made clear to him in staggering detail by Sam, over the last two days. So, given the importance of his physical appearance to maintaining the safety of their team, as well as that of the human attendees, he saw no reason to question their assessment that he did, in fact, look 'different'.  

As he turned his gaze back to the side window, calmly marveling at the last, brilliant colors of a truly spectacular sunset, he found himself wishing that he could, at least occasionally, understand what Sam's or Dean's assessments actually _meant_ , BEFORE he had to decide whether or not to go along with them.

"Well, you're just a fountain of conversation," Dean chided, half-playfully and half-terrified that Cas's fabulous "people-SKILLs" were gonna end up causing a lot of "people-DEADs" tonight.

"I am never taking this suit off," Sam announced, as he ran his finger lightly over the perfectly formed seams and smooth, beautifully crafted fabric.

Dean snorted. "Yeah, it's pretty damned sharp. I gotta admit."

"I saw the receipt for just the shoes. Take a guess," Sam said with a chuckle.

Dean glanced over at him. Then looked quickly at the shoe Sam had crossed over his knee, to show to his brother.

"Three hundred!" Dean intentionally guessed high, hoping to blow the smug look off Sammy's face.

"Eighteen Hundred Dollars!"

"What?" Dean's voice was shocked and somewhat offended. "...The fuck are they made out of?! Unicorn balls?!"

Sam snorted, shaking his head.

"The gonads of a unicorn would hardly work as proper shoe-making material."

"Thank you, Cas," Dean acknowledged, as diplomatically as he possibly could. But then, because he just couldn't help himself, he added, "And now I know all I ever want to know about a unicorn's nads. Ok?"

Cas looked at him, squinting, clearly trying to understand whether or not there was another message behind Dean's words or if he should just take that statement at face value. After a moment, he went with the literal interpretation. He had far more important things occupying his mind at the moment.  The exact length of time for a proper handshake to last, for example.  And ingraining in his mind and his vessel's muscle memory the two-step dancing pattern Dean had taught him... and making absolutely certain no one sees him practicing. EVER. His face paled just slightly, and he looked back out the window.

"I was terrified to ask how much the suit cost." Sam gestured back toward Cas. "But if I had to guess, I'd say between Cas and me, we're sportin 20 Large, easy."

"Fuck," Dean gasped, shaking his head and grinning. "That's just...stupid." He pondered that for a bit, then added, "Well, we could get a decent chunk on eBay, I bet."  Sam looked at his brother, absolutely mortified. Dean grinned. "Baby's gonna need a rebuild soon." He stroked the beloved dashboard with pride.

"You steal this suit and sell it on eBay, and I'll melt this bitch for scrap. I'm not kidding."

Dean shot him a look of hurt the likes of which Sam hadn't seen...well actually he'd seen that expression very recently, and then not long before that...and again when...well, hell, he'd seen it a lot of times in the last 11 years, but it was still an intense look that almost made Sam sad he'd made the threat. Except he absolutely meant it.

Dean's phone vibrated in his pocket and he grabbed for it immediately. Seeing that it was his mom, he flipped it open and put it on speaker.

"Hey, Mom!" Dean said cheerfully, still not able to properly contain the joy of being able to answer a phone call from his mother.

"Ok...something's wrong with the herbs, 'cause this was a simple spell and it was supposed to just coat these amber beads with antimony, but instead it's just billowing this blue smoke and it's filling..." she paused to cough.  And then cough again.  Then again.

"MOM!" Dean shouted.  "Mom, there's smoke?! Where are you?!"

Before anyone could say anything else, Cas's entire upper body appeared over Dean's shoulder as he yelled into the phone.

"Mary! Leave the area immediately! Try not to breathe! And go open the exterior garage door!" And then he was gone.

"Cas!" Sam shouted, but it was way too late.  "Son of a bitch..." Sam mumbled under his breath at the realization that they had at most 45 minutes before they HAD to be at the club and his date had just flown back to Kansas. Pile that on top of the fact that 'Holy shit, my mom might be dying back in Kansas!' and Sam was starting to freak out.

"Mom!' Dean shouted. "Did you hear Cas?! Get out of there right now, and go open the big garage door.  The one to the outside.  Cas is waiting for you there." 

 Mary coughed horribly, but managed to get, "ok" out, as she left the kitchen and made her way quickly to the garage. "I'll call you back," she choked, and hung up.

 

 

 

"Mary!" Cas screamed, pounding ferociously on the outside of the overhead garage door. "Mary, open the door!" He waited all of 3 seconds before wailing on the door again. He realized, belatedly, that there were now at least 5 small dents in the area he'd been abusing, but he kept up the assault. "Mary!"

The garage door shuddered and the roar of the automatic opener's motor and chain assembly halted Cas's pounding. As soon as the door was open about 1 foot, Cas crouched down and ducked his head low enough to spot Mary trotting toward the door.

"Mary!" Cas called to her, reaching toward the opening, offering her his hand and motioning for her to come out immediately. She ducked down and shimmied through the now approximately 3.5 foot opening. She was coughing and beating at her clothing, trying to release the powdery, blue residue that had built up quickly on the surface.

"It's moving fast," she gasped through coughs. "It's filled about a quarter of the bunker, I think, and it's still expanding."

"Are you injured?" Cas semi-shouted over the roar of the motor. Not waiting for a reply, he reached both hands to the sides of her face to allow his eyes and his grace to quickly assess her physical health. He removed all traces of the blue gunge from her body and clothing, and released her. Satisfied that she wasn't injured, poisoned, cursed or dying, he stood much more calmly, watching as the door continued to climb up toward its fully opened position. In his peripheral vision, he noticed that Mary was staring intently at him, and he assumed she was wondering about his hesitation.

"The warding on the door," he yelled, pointing upward. "I can't enter until it has moved to the position behind that large metal plate." He gestured toward the grey, steel square hanging beneath the still sliding door. He stared intently at it, waiting.

"No...I, uh...I know about the warding, Cas." She looked him up and down, a shocked smile very slowly working its way across her face. "I just didn't...um...you look different."

The door finally halted, with a loud thud...the warding safely hidden behind the plate. Cas was about to take a step into the garage, when he stopped and looked at Mary. She was still staring at him, and still had part of that smile glinting on her face. He considered her for a moment, squinting ever so slightly.

"Yes," he nodded, and strode toward the interior of the garage.

Mary watched him walk away, taking in the view. Her smile turned from appreciative to knowing, and finally to a sympathetic wince. "Oh, Dean," she said under her breath, as she began walking back in after Cas. "Oh, baby," she giggled, "It's not your fault."

"Mary, I'll take care of this. Please...stay outside." Cas didn't wait for her to acknowledge him. He just turned and disappeared into the bunker doorway.

"You never had a chance." She giggled a bit longer, letting her smile widen, shaking her head and crossing her arms. She rocked back and forth from heels to toes and waited to recover her composure, before pulling out her phone. With a few rehearsed movements, she retrieved Dean's number and called. Dean picked up nearly instantly.

"MOM!" His voice was intense and loud. "Mom! You ok?"

"Yeah, it's ok, I'm good. Cas is here. He's inside getting it under control."

"You're alright?" Dean repeated, a small hint of relief in his voice, but still far too intense.

"Yeah, Dean...it's ok, I'm ok. Really." She smiled. He reminded her of John so much at times, it was hard to remember that she was speaking to her little boy. She let that wave wash over her quickly, and got herself back on track.

"What happened?" She heard Sam's voice nudge close to the phone. "Mom! What happened?" he repeated.

"It's ok, Sammy. The stuff in the jar I used must not have been European Feverfew. It was the only ingredient I didn't manually check for freshness, so it's the only one that could have been wrongly labeled." At this point, her original irritation was starting to re-emerge and she found herself building up for a solid beat down of one of her kids. Because there are only a couple of things you never do, as a Hunter...and one of them is, you never, EVER fuck with spell ingredients. She'd had that particular lesson beaten into her hide at least a couple of times, and those lessons were meant to never be forgotten. They were alive and well in Mary's mind...and she was gonna make sure they got that way in the minds of both of her boys. She didn't give a damn if they were now her own age or not...it was gonna happen.

"So..." she began, the irritation now apparent in her voice, "Which one of you is the brain-trust that decided to fill a jar with a mystery herb and not remove the damned European Feverfew label?"

Silence. Absolute, utter silence. She'd expected this, but after a few moments, she realized she should probably check that the phone was still on. She did. It was.

"HELLO?!" she demanded.

"Me...Mom.  It was me." Dean said, the fear, embarrassment and devastating guilt he felt very clearly transmitting over the phone. "I was the one.  I'm...Mom, I'm so sorry."

"Dean, what the hell? I mean, it's a simple thing...you put something in a jar, you label it. It takes one minute."

"I know...Mom, I know..." Dean was struggling. She could tell. Her anger had already mostly subsided upon hearing that absolutely heartbroken apology. The last time she'd heard her boy take responsibility for something and apologize, he'd been a tiny, four-year-old, sitting on the edge of his bed with tears streaming down his cheeks and holding a shiny, black matchbox car. His big green eyes had looked up at her and conveyed the same absolute devastation she heard in his voice right now, as he'd admitted that he was the one who'd put the little car in the baby's crib.

"Dean, little Sammy could hurt himself with a toy like that.  Don't you remember that I said we don't put little cars in the baby's bed?"

"I wanted Sammy to see. My car," he chocked out between sobs. "I was gonna take the...my car...take it back out," he pleaded. His brimming, reddened eyes searched hers for understanding...for forgiveness. He knew he'd messed up. And mommy was disappointed. And life as he knew it was over. Just over. And please...please, God...don't tell Dad!

"But then you forgot, didn't you," Mary said, giving him an exaggerated wincing face.

Little Dean's lower lip puffed out hugely, as he looked back up into her eyes and nodded his head. And then he just lost it.  All the pent up despair of the last, dreadful, awful, unbearable 3 minutes just exploded in his little mind and he wailed. He threw his arms around his mommy's neck and choked and sobbed miserably into her shoulder.

"Oh, baby," she soothed. "I know. I know you didn't mean to forget. I know." She stroked his back and his hair for a long time, until her little boy lay against her, absolutely spent and in need of something not horrible to happen in his life.

"I'm sorry, mommy," he whimpered. "I won't show my car to Sammy any more."

"Baby," she said to him, holding his little face between her hands now and kissing his face. "I'm very proud of you for telling me the truth. And I know you'd never want to hurt little Sammy." She pulled him close for another big hug.  "Tell ya what," she said, with a glint of excitement in her voice and on her face. She pulled him back so he could see her. "How about we go get Sammy and we all go downstairs to the table. And we can put little Sammy in his high-chair and you can sit right on my lap with me. And we'll all have a big piece of apple pie! Then you and me...we can show Sammy your car together!  How's that sound? Hmm?"

Dean's face altered completely. She was offering the nirvana trifecta - love, pie and a car. I mean...seriously...this woman was the most miraculous thing that has ever existed, and Dean never wanted her to leave his sight or let go of her hand ever again for the rest of forever. She was that awesome.

"Mom?" Sam's voice was soft. Tentative.  "Mom, it wasn't all Dean's fault. Those jars are...we've been kinda having a problem with the new labels we got falling off of those jars. They don't wanna stick over the old labels. Dean probably did label it and it fell off. I was gonna order some more...you know...blank ones and...I...forgot...to order them." His voice trailed off.

"I should've...I should never have let that happen, Mom." Dean said. He made a clicking sound...a half formed word, and continued. "If you'd gotten hurt..."

"Dean, I didn't get hurt. It's ok. Really. I'm fine."

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"I know you are. And you two are gonna fix it when you get home, so this never happens again.  And then that's gonna be the end of it, ok? I'll make sure I double-check any ingredients I use, until we can get it all sorted out. So I'm gonna be fine."

The was silence on the other end, as she waited to hear one of them reply.

"Ok, Mom," Sam said, shyly. "I'll do it first thing, when we get home."

"Thank you, Sammy." She smiled and waited to hear from Dean.  But he was silent.

"Dean?" she called. "Baby, it's ok. I'm fine. And I forgive you. Accidents happen."

Cas had made his way back from the bunker to the garage door and was standing to Mary's side.  He startled her just a bit, but she recovered quickly.

"Ok, Cas is here," she said, looking at him to see if he needed to speak to them. He nodded. "And he wants to talk to you."  She handed Cas the phone and he began to relay the exact nature and extent of the problem. Halfway through, he abruptly stopped.

"Yes, everything is fine, now." Pause. "I was just about to..." Pause. "I was just about..." Castiel set his jaw and stiffened.  "Dean..." Pause. He opened his mouth to speak again, but then just pulled the phone away from his ear, looking at it. And hung up.

"Oh!...I was gonna say 'goodbye' to ... nevermind" she said, waving her hand dismissively.

Cas looked at her, then down to the phone and back to her.  He grimaced and nodded. "My apologies."

"No, no...it's ok. You need to get back. Things are still on track, right?" 

"Yes, the plan is unfolding as we intended. We were just on our way to exchange vehicles and proceed to the nightclub, when you called." Cas raised his arms up and out just a bit and looked down at his body somewhat shyly. "Thus the looking...'different'...you mentioned."

"Ah!" Mary made an exaggerated nod and tried not to grin too hard.  She almost made it. Then she gave him one more thorough scan and blushed.

Cas noticed this and made a quick decision.

"Mary, may I ask you a question?"

"Sure, Cas! What's on your mind?"

He paused and thought about how to phrase it.  "You said I look...'different'." He paused again, and went back to fidgeting. "Is 'different' a good thing? Or is it a bad thing?" It took a moment before he could look her in the eye, and even without knowing him long, Mary could tell this was important. The way she answered right now was gonna count, even though she wasn't exactly sure how. So she gave him her biggest, warmest smile and started to speak, when the phone rang.

Cas looked down and saw it was Dean. Of course. He silenced the ringer and looked back at Mary, expectantly.

"Cas...it's a good thing." She looked him over one more time and then giggled. "It's a really, really good thing."

Cas had a hard time meeting her eyes for a moment, while he pondered that.  He was clearly pleased, but trying to hide it.  Finally, he looked back at her.

"Thank you, Mary." He handed her back her phone, suddenly realizing he was still holding it. "I'd prefer to know that you're safely back inside the bunker, before I leave. Would you mind closing the garage door behind you?"

"Sure, Cas.  Make sure you call me the moment there's any change to the plan or when you're done. I'm going to be worried until I hear from you, so no stalling, ok? Even if it's bad news, I wanna know what's going on."

Cas nodded and watched her retreat to the far wall of the garage. She tapped her phone to answer and began speaking to Dean as she flicked the switch to close the door. Turning back, she watched as less and less of Cas was visible through the opening at the bottom of the door.

He vanished the instant the door met the ground and locked.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Cas and Sam (I mean, Steve and Will) Drive off in the Impala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas fixed his hair, after arriving back from helping Mary, and now it was way too perfect. Dean and Sam both decided it sucked.
> 
> Sam has to get himself and Cas 'in character', so they will be able to convince the as yet un-identified vampires at the club that they are not the Hunter's they're looking for. (And the next lines are? Anyone? Anyone? Ok, I'll tell you. It's, "They can go about their business." "Move along.")
> 
> They split off from Dean, to play their roles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone reading this:  
> Sam's alias is 'Will'  
> Cas's alias is 'Steve'  
> They are going to a club crawling with vamps who've lost several of their nest in the last few days to what was clearly an attack by Hunters. They don't know who the Hunters are, though. So, if Sam and Cas are gonna be bait (the vamps have been attacking very wealthy, very attractive male couples) and not get ID'd as Hunters, they're gonna have to sell themselves as a rich, gay couple invited by the nightclub owner to attend his special celebration to thank all the donors to his startups and charities.  
> Dean will work with the catering staff, so he'll have access to the back alley, the hallways, the kitchen, etc.
> 
> Oh...and Sam's line 'btw...how's my tie?' refers to the routine that he worked out with Cas to give them something they could do to make them look like a long-term couple. Sam(Will) will look at Cas(Steve) and ask, "how's my tie?" At which point, Steve will fuss with Will's tie, do a little chest-smoothing and/or other types of tame caressing, and Will will lean down an give him a kiss. They had practiced this over the previous two days, plus several other little cheats that would help Cas not look like an insane alien, and help both of them to not look like they don't wanna touch the 'Cootie' kid, when they're trying to sell themselves as a couple.

*'The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date'

**Dean reached over and frumpled up Cas's hair on the sides, much to Cas's annoyance. When this was getting much closer to the look he thought Cas oughta have, he grinned a little maniacally and reached in through the front window of the Impala to start her up. Then he reached _way_ down, under the dash, and popped the hood.

 

 

He motioned for Cas to follow him around to the front grill, and he opened the hood all the way.

“Don't reach in with your hands. Keep your hands right here on the part that's shiny black.” He placed his own hands on the smooth black surface, just above the chrome grill and motioned for Cas to follow suit. He did.

“Now...lean over until you feel the air on your face.” Dean demonstrated, but not all the way. _His_ hair was just fine, after all.

Cas leaned forward.

“A little more,” Dean coaxed. He reached over quickly and pressed Cas's tie to his chest. Cas was looking at him, very confused, but trusting that Dean knew what he was doing. Leaning in just a few inches more, Cas's face suddenly crossed into the gale-force wind of that gigantic air-cooled-engine fan.

His hair went every direction at once.

Dean motioned for Cas to turn his head from side to side a bit...let the air hit it all over.

When Cas finally leaned back and out of the air flow, Dean smiled hugely at him.

"There he is!" Dean proclaimed triumphantly, and chuckled. "The Holy Terror!" He reached over and took care of the really crazy bits, to help Cas look more like a stylish rich guy and less like someone who'd just been mugged. It's a fine line, after all.

Sam watched this with clear envy. “I cannot believe that worked!”

“Come on over, _Willie_ , lets see what we can do for yours!” Dean made like he was gonna grab for Sam, and his little brother landed a very solid fist into his bicep. Dean winced and chuckled.

“It looks alright...Will?” Cas asked. “It looks acceptable?”

Sam smiled, a little exasperated by Cas's increasing desperation to please his date. His FAKE date.

“Yeah, man, you look fantastic!” he assured him. “You're gonna do great. Don't worry. Something happens, you've got me there to back you up, ok? You've got this.” Sam corrected himself. “WE'VE got this.” He walked over and threw his arm around his messy-haired date. Looking down at him with a big grin, he gave him a squeeze. “Come on, Steve! Let's go clubbin!”

Cas had cracked a smile at this point. Sam's enthusiasm was ridiculous enough for even him to get the joke. “Ok!” Cas nodded, dramatically, trying to mimic Sam's energy.

“You ready to do this?!” Sam continued to schmooze.

“I'm...I'm ready to do this.” Cas nodded and waved one arm forward in a 'charge!' motion. He he looked as embarrassed and awkward as Dean had ever seen him, and Dean gave Sam a huge smile.

“Let's do this!” Sam shouted and strode determinedly forward, his arm still around his date.

Dean clapped Cas on the shoulder, as they passed by. “Go get 'em, Tiger!” He threw Sam the keys to the Impala – now with a spotless finish and a fresh coat of wax.

Sam took Cas to the passenger side door and opened it for him. Cas stopped and looked at him, then at the car seat, then back at his date.

“This really is very strange.”

“Not strange at all,” Sam beamed, still holding the door. “We go out together every Friday night, Steve!” He was still smiling, but he gave Cas a very pointed look, until Cas got it together. Then, he winked at him. “Btw...how's my tie?”

Cas froze. “We're starting now?”

Sam sighed, a look of real worry showing on his face for the first time in this whole planning stage.

“Yeah. We're starting now.”

“But, we're not at the club.”

Sam let out a big sigh. “We've gotta be completely in character when we arrive. In the car, getting out of the car, greeting the valet, greeting the doormen...” Sam sighed and looked at Cas, trying to be reassuring, while biting a growing fear that this whole plan was going to collapse before it even began. "Come on, man. It's too late to change the plan. We HAVE to make this work."

Cas's mouth opened just a tiny bit, then closed again. He swallowed hard and his gaze flickered over the top of the car to Dean for a split second. Then he lowered his head, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He stood very still.

When he opened his eyes again and looked up at Sam, the transformation was incredible. Cas, was gone. Steve took a small step toward Sam, reaching both hands up to his tie and fussing with it in imperceptible adjustments. His movements looked comfortable, his face showed no tension or hesitation. He smoothed his hands over Sam's upper chest and down the lapels of his jacket, looking him over adoringly.

“You look great, Will,” Steve said softly, lifting his face to gaze into his lover's eyes.

“Thanks, babe,” Will said. “So do you.” He leaned down and gave Steve a medium-quick kiss on the lips.

They were both blushing, they were both grinning and they were selling it entirely. Which is why, when Dean watched Steve get into the car and Will close his door, then come around to the drivers side, get in and start to drive off...it hurt so god-damned bad.

Just as they were about to pull out of the parking lot onto the main road, Cas turned around in the front seat to look out the back window. He watched Dean. And at the last second, he waved. Sam raised a hand to wave, too.

Dean made sure they saw him wave back. And he flashed his biggest smile. He knew Cas was scared. And he knew his friend would never admit it, never say, 'No' to either of them, if they asked for his help, no matter what it was they were asking of him. And right now, they were asking a lot.

But...Sammy had him. So he was gonna be ok. And Cas had _Sammy_ , so _he_ was gonna be ok.

And Dean realized he needed to get his ass to the kitchen at that event, before they assumed the new guy wasn't gonna show and he didn't get into the club at all...and then NONE of them would be ok!

He grabbed his white jacket and black bow tie, threw them and the duffel stuffed with vamp-ganking gear into the 'borrowed' car and drove off after his family. If he stayed just the right distance back, he'd be able to watch the Impala's tail lights all the way to the venue, on this flat, straight, suddenly very long state road into the city.

 

 


	5. The Joys of Miscommunication - Cas's Inappropriate Grace-Touching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of: 'The Tether' (http://archiveofourown.org/works/8018521)
> 
> Cas has been tethered to Dean for 3 weeks. Still no solutions in site.  
> They've been ok up until now, but Dean needs to do something about the now-fairly-desperate-need to get off, and Cas, always willing to be helpful to his friend, has no idea how uncool what he's about to do is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one really, really is just an outline.  
> If you wan't actual, fleshed out written material, don't read this.  
> It's only here so it doesn't get lost in the quicksand of my desk.
> 
> Also - This scene would not have formed in my head, were it not for NortherSparrow's unforgettable fic 'A Room of One's Own'. This is still one of the best things I've ever read, fanfic or otherwise. It's incredibly good in every respect and will forever taint every thought you ever have about Dean's bunker bedroom...and the hood of the Impala...  
> *sighs* *drifts off*  
> *shakes herself back to the moment*  
> If you haven't read it, here's the link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/1417834/chapters/2978790  
> Stop reading this crap and go read that. And then read 'Forgotten' and 'Flight'. And every other work she has posted out here. They're freakin amazing and basically SPN fanfic canon, in my opinion.
> 
> And if you feel about it the way I do, help me figure out how to start a campaign: If Misha wants to make more money for charity, he should do a photo shoot as Cas on Baby's hood and turn it into a calendar. I'd buy ten copies right now. (Original trench coat, tie, shirt and suit. But, barring that, I'd settle for winged and naked. That's fair, right?)

Fic Name: 'The Tether' (http://archiveofourown.org/works/8018521)

 

( _Cas is in Dean's room with him, getting ready for Dean to sleep. Cas has taken to sitting in a chair next to Dean's bed and reading through the night. Dean has spent many evenings just chatting with Cas before he nods off and enjoying his company, even if it is a little begrudgingly. Dean has introduced Cas to lots of music, several old movies, The Three Stooges, etc. Cas has found a few classical pieces that Dean has agreed to hear and has found to be very cool. Cas's choices in music tend toward the romantic or impressionistic, so that gets a bit awkward at times. But mostly, it's just nice._  
 _Dean's night-time mood has deteriorated over time, though. One night, he is particularly agitated and crabby and Castiel tries to understand what's happening. He assumes its something he's done and tries anything he can think of to placate Dean, but he fails. Seeing his friend look hurt and confused makes Dean realize he's being a dick, so he tries to explain to Cas that guys have “needs” and that having Cas tethered to him makes it impossible for him to satisfy those “needs.” He has zero private time. Cas determines that they are talking about sex, and asks if Dean means masturbation. Dean is horrified and annoyed and has no idea why he needs to explain anything, but basically says 'yes, that's what I'm talking about'._  
 _Cas thinks for a moment, and asks if it would be helpful if the urge to masturbate were to lessen. Would Dean be happier or, at least, less frustrated? Dean says 'yes' and Cas tells him that he can help. He reaches to Dean's forehead to extend his grace to his friend._

 _Sam, dozing in his own room, hears Dean scream and then begin crying out in incomprehensible pulses. Sam grabs his gun and rushes to his brother's room, whipping open the door and leveling his gun on the first moving shape he sees. That shape is his brother, who has clearly fallen off of the side of his bed and is lying in a gasping, twitching heap on the floor next to Castiel's chair. His blanket and sheet are twisted around him and he's clutching them for dear life. Castiel, still seated, is looking down at him and firmly gripping his upper arm, to keep him from hurting himself in the fall.  
Dean is panting, his knees pulled up toward his chest and his entire body shaking._ )

 

“Dean?” Sam lowered his gun and took a step forward, but then stopped when he saw Castiel raise his hand and motion for him to wait.

“It's alright, Sam,” he soothed. “I was simply helping Dean to relax.” He looked down at his friend and released his hold on his arm. Dean slumped down further, burying his face into a wad of blanket and struggling to catch his breath. “He should recover momentarily.”

“Jesus Christ,” Dean gasped, repeating it with each exhale into the blanket, like a mantra.

Sam stood in the doorway. “Oh my god,” he mumbled. The gun lowered fully to his side and he turned his upper body to flee, but he couldn't seem to get his feet to move. His mind was screaming, “RUN! NOW! MOVE!”, but no dice. A moment passed and it was too late. Dean lifted his head from the blanket and saw his brothers legs standing in the doorway.

“GET THE HELL OUT, SAM!”

This broke the spell. Sam turned on his heel and actually ran back to his room. His door slammed shut and the lock clicked. Sam stood back from his securely closed door and stared at it, as though he expected it's flat, closed surface to offer a better explanation. But then he started laughing. And he was getting loud, so he shoved his hand across his mouth to muffle the sound. There was silence for just a few seconds more, before Sam heard the angel's gentle, gravelly voice speaking quietly.

He couldn't make out the words.

The soothing voice was violently drowned out.

“CAS!” Dean screamed. “WHAT THE FU...OW!”

“You're tangled. Stop!” Cas' voice was louder, but still calm.

“DO NOT TOUCH ME!” Dean demanded. Again, there was silence, before the conversation moved into the hallway, Dean made his way to the bathroom and Cas was dragged behind him.

“GOD DAMMIT, CAS! What the HELL?!”

“You said you needed release to be more relaxed. I was trying to help.” Castiel's voice was rising defensively, but it was clear he was still completely at a loss to understand the reason for Dean's anger.

“If I WANT your help, Cas, I'll ASK for it!” Dean slammed the bathroom door, but it did nothing to muffle their voices.

“I did ask. You said 'yes'.”

“I THOUGHT,” Dean began, suddenly realizing the volume of his voice and knowing Sam could hear. He dropped his voice to a loud whisper. “I thought you were gonna take away the urge, not...PUNCH IN THE LAUNCH CODE!”

Sam's knees gave a little and he staggered over to his bed, dropping himself down in a heap and dissolving into loud, uninhibited laughter.

“FUCK YOU, SAM!”

Sam's laughter only increased.

“Shit!” Dean hissed. “I gotta get cleaned up.” The shower came on briefly. “You keep your EYES SHUT! You GOT THAT?!” Dean's voice was back to nearly full volume. There was clearly no need to hide his comments anymore.


	6. Hark! The Lonely Angel Sings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of: 'The Tether' (http://archiveofourown.org/works/8018521)  
> Don't read this one either. Totally just an outline.
> 
> Cas is in the prison. The boys are at the bunker, trying to figure out where he is and listening to the communication device that was built for them, in preparation for this eventuality. Cas is talking to them, to try to help them track the signal or establish a link...something they can use to find him. 
> 
> The song he sings may or may not be that particular horrible song. Could be any number of horrible songs that he's picked up. But, that one was stuck in my head because of the lullaby scene from Cas's babysitting gig. It's pretty stupid. Made me laugh, though, so...fuck it. Why not. This ain't a real fic, yet. (But it's currently being created, now, so I'll definitely be re-visiting this!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't read this one either. Totally just an outline.

Fic Name: 'The Tether' (http://archiveofourown.org/works/8018521)

 

While in the prison, Cas has a one sided open connection to a radio-receiver device in the bunker. They preemptively thought to create something that would allow him to communicate his location, if he were pulled away before they could determine the prison's location and time. Sam suggests quantum entanglement, using a part of his grace left either within Dean or Sam or both, and he talks to them via prayer, or within a device that will turn the signal into radio waves that can then be overheard via a standard receiver and speakers. I don't now. I haven't worked out the details yet.

Cas talks to Sam and Dean, starting from the moment he wakes up in the prison cell. He starts by telling them he's ok and giving them the details of what he saw during the trip to the prison. Because he's hoping they'll be able to trace his communication, he continues to talk to them about anything he can think of. He tells them about translations he didn't have time to finish, shares ideas he's had, tells them all the little bits of minutia that there never seems to be time to tell them...and then he sings to them, cause he hopes its rhythmic enough to get their attention, in case the connection is really weak. He's communicating through prayer, so it isn't like he can make banging noises. He has to think it. He starts by sending pulses of his true voice, in sets of prime number counts: 1,2,3,5,7,11. He then concentrates on sending the Main Theme from Game of Thrones, heavily emphasizing the drum lines. He repeats that 20 times. It comes through, but it sounds a little strange. It's clearly recognizable, though, and Dean and Sam both smile. Dean nods his appreciation of Cas's choice. Next, Cas says he's going to sing Dean's favorite lullaby. Dean is confused for a moment, and then his face falls with the sudden, horrifying understanding of what Cas is about to subject them to. 

“No, Cas.” Dean groans aloud, trying to will his thoughts to Cas, though he knows it won't work. Cas reminds Dean that he'd once told him he sang this song to quiet Baby Tanya. Dean had groaned and then laughed pretty hard, picturing that scene and explaining to Cas how cheesy that song is. 

“Don't do it. It ain't worth it, buddy.”

Cas clears his throat. He sounds very embarrassed already, but pushes through and starts to sing. He gets through the first line and huffs a small snort of laughter. Dean can clearly hear the huge smile on his face, now, altering the sound of his voice. He halts for a moment and mumbles, as though the snort made him lose track and he's trying to remember the next line. Then he picks back up. He gets through just one more line and starts very softly giggling. As he limps through more lines and verses, the giggling turns into an uncontrollable laugh...he's thinking about how annoyed Dean must be, if the connection isn't weak and he's being forced to hear this awful song sung badly. But he figures Dean might also be laughing...and he is. Sam has stepped away to the bathroom, so Dean is alone when Cas starts singing that song. He's cringing, at first, but after he hears Cas start to break up, he completely loses it. It's SO BAD! Even CAS gets how bad it is! He calls to Sam that he's gotta come listen to this. Sam, hearing Dean's laughter, jogs quickly back into the room with a grin already on his face and listens. At this point, Cas is really breaking up and having a hard time getting through even short sections of the lyrics without stopping to laugh. He's belts out half of the chorus and then just gives up. He can't go any further. All three of them are laughing very hard. It's a wonderful and unexpected break from the terrible situation. For just a brief time, they're together and happy. Cas continues to laugh for a long time. It's clearly cathartic...releasing what must be an incredible amount of tension and fear. He finishes up by saying, “For you, Dean. I know how you love that song.” laughter. “Ah... that's ...quite enough of that.” he's catching his breath between shorter bursts of laughter and giggles. “It feels good to laugh.” he says, still obviously grinning, but slowing down a bit. “It occurred to me, recently, that I've laughed more with the two of you, in the short time I've known you, than I have over the course of eons. It's interesting...even the thought of you two laughing right now is extremely humorous.” He sighs and does another quick snort of laughter. “Ah. I do wish I could hear you. You both have such wonderfully infectious laughs. I miss hearing them already. I miss YOU already.” The smile is slowly fading, but it's still there. “I miss being home.” he sighs, resignation in his voice. After a moment, he perks back up. “So...now I need to come up with other things to share with you. Hmm...”  
(Cas may have taken a thick notebook and pencils with him, when he left home.)Cas starts flipping through a mental list of things to talk about. He notes some ideas as Dean-topics and others as Sam-topics. A few of the really intense, high-brow, intellectual ideas he labels as effective Dean-banishing-topics, and then snorts a laugh at his own silly joke. “Those are topics for when you want some alone time, Sam, “ Cas says, and the cadence and tone of his voice very clearly conveyed that he'd just put finger-quotes around the phrase 'alone time'.  
Dean snorts.

Cas continues his list. Sam and Dean look at each other briefly, as they listen to Cas sort the topics into their categories. Their faces, almost in unison, begin to twist with the pain they feel...the deep sense of loss and fear, and the longing to help their friend. Cas had surely meant for the voicing of his mental list of topics to simply be a way to fill the gap and continue talking, until he came up with something he thought both of them would care to hear. 

It was having a different effect on Sam and Dean. They were quietly listening as their friend unwittingly told them, topic by topic, exactly how well he knows them. He was proving how closely he'd been paying attention to their likes and dislikes, their natural tendencies toward certain ways of thinking, the quirks of each man's personality. Sam silently wondered how well he'd be able to do the same for Cas. Dean became very still. He listened to his friend finally settle on the topic of “Am I older than dirt? Well, we'll need to clarify which dirt we're talking about, so lets consider the dirt in the immediate area around the bunker. Northwestern Kansas. That's some very special dirt. Of course, the topsoil is far too recent for any type of comparison. But just one meter down, everything gets much more interesting.” Cas launched into a seemingly endless tirade, covering the geological history of the North American continent over the last few hundred million years. Sam bounced between being bored and being absolutely riveted. Cas lost Dean after only a few minutes, when he started throwing around words like sedimentation, and karst. But Dean couldn't seem to pull himself away from the sound of the voice merrily droning through the speakers. He moved to the table and sat down, opening his laptop and continuing the search for some answers to Cas's situation. He cracked open the beer he'd been holding since before the 'lullaby incident' and got comfortable.  
Sam, realizing his brother was zoning out, reached over to lower the volume of Cas's voice just a bit. 

“No, Sammy,” Dean said immediately. “Don't turn him down.”

Sam looked at his brother. He reached for the volume and filled the room with Cas's voice again. Neither of them spoke for the rest of the evening. Instead, they listened to the gravelly, calm, professorial tone of their friend's voice, as they each went about their various tasks. Cas kept going for more than 5 hours straight, and it was after 11pm when he finally came to a stopping point and let out a big sigh.

“Ok...I think I've talked enough to give a decent tracking signal for today. Maybe...Hopefully...I...can't be certain. But, I don't want the two of you sitting up listening to me, when you should be getting some rest. I'd like to keep track of time, but it'll be almost impossible here. The light appears to be constant and there are absolutely no other reference points to use. No stars. Just an enormous stone wall, a hazy landscape with nothing growing...and a featureless sky.” He sighs. “I'll take a look around. Perhaps I'll have more information tomorrow. Sleep well, my friends. Good night.” He stops, but then quickly adds, “Oh, and I'll...uh...try to come up with enough topics tomorrow to spare you both my singing.” He snorts just a little at this thought, and the smile is back. “Good night, Sam. Good night, Dean.”


	7. Cas was One Scary BAMF (*aaaaand...CUT! That's a Wrap!*)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of: 'The Tether' (http://archiveofourown.org/works/8018521)
> 
> When Cas first appeared to Dean, and in several of the following appearances, the wind would pick up to gale force, lights would blow, electronics would go nuts and doors would burst open. Later, Cas would appear almost completely silently, with no blowing lights or electronics, no wind...nothing.
> 
> From past experience, Cas has learned that when meeting with a powerful or important human, who's compliance he needs, he should 'make an entrance'. Let the human see his power and scare the shit out of him/her. This reduces the chances that he'd need to use actual force to gain the human's compliance, thereby saving the human and his/her followers from harm. But, he doesn't HAVE to do any of that dramatic crap. It's just a show.
> 
> “Bullshit!” Dean says, messily. The paper-towel resumes it's duty. But Dean's defiant facade is cracking, showing that he's thinking this through, absorbing the implications of what his now very good friend is telling him about their first (mutually remembered) encounter.
> 
> “It works,” Cas says, drily, ignoring Dean's outburst. “It always works.” He paused for a moment, thinking, then added, “At least for a time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Choppity, choppity, chop, chop. Sorry folks. Part outline, part written scene. A horrid Frankestein. Read at your own risk.
> 
> WARNING: TRIGGER ALERT  
> I've been told that the amount of chewing and weird food-eating imagery in this scene can trigger misophonia. So if this is a thing for you, maybe skip this one. The gist is in the summary, so you're not missing much, anyway.

_Fic Name: 'The Tether' (http://archiveofourown.org/works/8018521)_

 

_**_

_Cas cooking, preparing dinner. Listens to radio. Hears “Slow Ride”. Names it. Also names Foghat. Dean's impressed and very pleased about this. Cas pronounces it strangely, though, like 'Faw-ghat'. Dean tries to correct him and Cas wonders if the band is Bengali. The word sounds Bengali, to him. Or, perhaps, Icelandic. Sam comes in. Cas asks Sam. They start to discuss linguistics and Dean throws the brakes on that, almost begging for mercy. He's way too tired for that conversation to occur around him._

_Sam sits. Cas serves, then sits and the two men begin to eat. Cas just sips on a beer._

_Sam asks about Cas's wings._

_**_

 

“The soreness, you mean,” Cas responded, as though completing Sam's question for him.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “They ok?”

“I believe the soreness was only partly related to my wings. It seems that during the time my wings were unusable, a few of the muscles in my vessel decided they weren't needed as urgently and they weakened. When I regained full use of my wings, the power required for flight was apparently a bit of a strain on those muscles. I believe I 'pulled' one,” Cas said, using air quotes. “That seems to have been the cause of the soreness.”

“Oh,” Sam said, through a small mouthful of beans. “Good news. So, you're all healed up then?” He grinned at Cas, and the angel nodded and gazed back at him, somewhat adoringly.

“Yes, Sam. I'm all healed up.” Cas watched Sam take another hearty bite of the food he'd prepared for him and grinned. He liked Sam. He'd always liked him. Sam was kind. He was _tough_ , and he could be intense, but he was always, always kind. He was willing to ask questions, and to explain things when Cas didn't understand. Sam treated him like a partner...a teammate. He never treated him like an annoyance or...like a child. Cas appreciated that. He _needed_ that. Especially now.

 

_** (NOTE: I'm still trying to figure out where/how to place this paragraph. Not here, but somewhere in this fic.)_

_Cas's thoughts darted back to the time when he'd been told about Sam Winchester - 'The Boy with the Demon Blood.' What a sad, and deeply shallow description that had been of Sam. For the thousandth time since meeting him, Cas felt a momentary pang of guilt and shame over his blind acceptance of that description. Sam was so much more than that. Sam was...Sam. It made Cas wonder how many more unfair, incomplete descriptions or prejudices had been taught to him and were now hiding in his mind, just waiting for someone to prove them utterly wrong. He hoped there weren't many. And he hoped he wouldn't be as cruel to those people as he had been to Sam in the beginning. Cas's smile faded a bit, with the memory, and his eyes took on their familiar sad tinge. Sam was too engrossed in his meal to notice._

_**_

 

“Awesome,” Dean grunted, through a huge mouthful of beans and bread.

Cas looked back at the elder Winchester, watching his friend demolish the meal with gusto. He'd never seen anyone enjoy food to the extent that Dean does. Watching him was always entertaining for Cas, but watching him eat was...well...a special treat. The anthropological implications alone...

“So...when you takin us flyin?” Dean demanded. A couple of small chunks of...something...flew out of his mouth. He watched them land on the table in front of him, then quickly swiped them away with his paper-towel-napkin and acted like it never happened.

“Dean,” Sam scolded.

“What? I wanna see what it all looks like from Angel-Cam.”

Cas shifted uneasily in his chair. He wasn't sure he liked where this was headed, but he wasn't going to let Dean know that, if he could help it. He went with the first diversion that came to mind.

“Sam told me you're afraid of flying,” Cas stated flatly, taking a swig of beer and fidgeting with a button on his shirt. It was an ugly tactic, he knew. He wasn't exactly proud of himself for using it, but, at the moment, a mild attack on Dean's pride would serve his purpose. And Dean's ego is definitely big enough to absorb the jab, so, no lasting damage.

Dean shot a quick glare at Sam and then looked back at Cas. “I don't like airplanes. That's all.” He shoved another huge forkful of food into his mouth and continued. “But it'd be cool to fly if it was...ya know... _You_. I mean...not locked into a big metal cylinder, just waiting for a bad o-ring or a pilot with a crack habit to nosedive us into the ground. If it was you, then...you know...you'd know how to not kill us if somethin' went wrong. That's all I'm sayin'.” He chewed and chewed, stabbing another forkful and pushing it into his already somewhat stuffed mouth. “I'm not afraid of flyin'.” he insisted. “I ain't afraid of anything. Not anymore.”

Sam almost argued, but thought better of it. He went back to his food, grunting a little sound of satisfaction.

“You were afraid of me.” Cas said it as a statement of fact. He was gripping his bottle of beer, slowly twisting it around and around, hoping to avoid and further mention of taking Dean flying.

“I ain't afraid of you, Feathers.”

“Maybe not now. But you were.” Cas continued to twist his bottle. “When we met. You were afraid.”

Dean dropped his fork-holding arm down to the table and assessed his friend, as he chewed. “What the hell are you talkin about, Cas?” He finished chewing his mouthful and swallowed. “If I was afraid of you, I wouldn't've summoned you right to me.” He pointed his fork in Cas's direction for emphasis. “And I sure as Hell wouldn't have just stood there. If I'd been scared, I'd've gotten my ass outta there.”

Cas didn't take his eyes off of the bottle. He just listened.

“You know, one thing I always wanted to ask you about,” Sam interrupted. “How come you show up quietly now, Cas? Dean told me about your first meetings, and then I saw you do it once, too.” He finished the last small bits he'd been chewing and swallowed, resting his fork on his plate and giving Cas his full attention.

 

_**_

_(NOTE: And here's where I haven't yet bridged the two pieces of this scene. Sorry folks! I'll get there eventually. But here's the gist of what I'm trying to capture, before I forget:_

_when Cas first appeared to Dean, and in several of the following appearances, the wind would pick up to gale force, lights would blow, electronics would go nuts and doors would burst open. And then, later, Cas would appear almost completely silently, with no blowing lights or electronics, no wind...nothing._

_See...I think Cas knows from past experience that when he's meeting with a powerful and important human, who's compliance he needs, Cas should 'make an entrance'. Let the human see his power and scare the shit out of him/her. But, he totally doesn't HAVE to do any of that dramatic crap._

_Dean tries to deny that he was scared._

_Cas points out Dean and Bobby had laid out their entire arsenal, (and used it all against him, btw) and that they'd covered the place in every sigil they'd ever heard of - including ones that they didn't even understand, had nothing to do with warding against danger, and they'd gotten wrong, anyway. Including the one that was actually for bringing increase to a flock of sheep. That one was close, Cas would say, but not correct...it would have made the sheep much more, um, "active", but it would not have yielded young. He then says he made corrective notes in John's notebook._

_Dean, totally scrambling to save his pride, makes up some bullshit reason why that doesn't prove he was scared._

_Cas just takes a swig of beer, through a smug grin and repeats, "You were afraid of me."_

_Dean, without really thinking, makes a dismissive and ultimately very disrespectful remark about how he figured Cas probably had to learn how to use his wings with his new vessel. That's what trips Cas's trigger. He starts openly dominating Dean by faking being insulted._

_I mean, come on, Dean...the guy led an entire garrison, after all. Do you really think he doesn't know how to intimidate a subordinate? Please..._

_ok...back to what's ACTUALLY written. Sort of._

_**_

 

Cas leaned forward. His face held the intense look he usually reserved for sentences like, “Watch your mouth or I'll throw your ass right back in the pit!”

Cas had never said those exact words, of course, but Dean's mind had automatically translated Cas's precise, eloquent English into Blue-Collar-Midwestern-ese, so...that's the version he remembered.

“Let me be certain I understand what you're saying, Dean.” Cas began. He said these words slowly, pausing for effect between each phrase and watching Dean's reactions. He continued to lean closer and Dean instinctively began to retreat. Just millimeters, but enough to encourage Cas to continue the intrusion. “You thought...presumably until just this very moment...that...ah...after _eons_ as a winged creature...it was only a few years ago that I finally mastered _controlled flight_.” Cas tilted his head down slightly. It was a tiny gesture, but it instantly changed his stare from intrusive and unnerving, to the single-focused glare of a raptor eyeing its next meal.

Dean stared directly into the angel's eyes. He knew he should take control of the situation. Say something dismissive. Crack a joke. Something. _Anything_. But he just sat there, stunned and utterly unable to look away. He swallowed. It was loud.

“Uh...” Dean barely said. Cas cut him off.

“I do understand you correctly, Dean? That is what you thought?”

At some point during this exchange, Sam had stopped eating. He'd managed to lean back in his chair and even pull out his phone, flipping silently through the apps to get the camera ready. He had a feeling he knew what might be coming and there was no way he was gonna miss getting a picture of his brother's face, when it did. Luckily, he didn't have to wait long. Photo op #1 was currently presenting itself and Sam deftly snapped shot after glorious shot. Video was up next.

A deep rumble seemed to come from every corner of the bunker at once. It was thunder...distant, but powerful, and it was filling the entire space with an ominous sub-sonic growl. Cas never flinched. Never acknowledge the sound at all, but as he tilted his head, ever so slightly, the final pulse of the roar hit the bunker and the facility shook. Pans and glasses rattled lightly in the cupboard, and the wooden spoon Cas had used to stir the beans fell from the counter top onto the floor with a small 'thwack'.

“That's _deeply_ insulting.” Cas's voice was low, slow and even, and, though Dean would go to his grave denying it, that voice paired with Cas's intense, unreadable stare sent a much bigger shudder through Dean's body than any thunder ever could.

Cas held the stare for just a few moments longer, before he allowed himself a tiny smile. It just barely tugged up the corners of his mouth...and then the corners of his eyes.

Dean's face darkened. “You son of a bitch,” he growled, and Cas's face softened entirely. A wide, good-natured grin spread across his face. He leaned back into his chair, reclaiming his beer for a well deserved victory swig.

“You SON of a BITCH!” Dean pounded his fist on the table for emphasis. It's then that he noticed his brother, red-faced from trying to remain silent, camera capturing every humiliating moment. Instantly, Sam was relaxing into raucous laughter so loud in the tiled echo-chamber they called a kitchen, that Dean was sure his ears would be ringing for a week.

“Oh...my...God...” Sam choked out, head thrown back and free hand slowly clapping against his thigh.

Cas was smiling somewhat bashfully down at his lap, glancing up every few moments to catch Dean's eye. Sam leaned forward and slapped him on the shoulder. “Cas,” Sam gasped between spasms. “That was freakin BEAUTIFUL!” Though the last half of the word only came out as a whispered gasp of air. Tears were leaking from Sam's eyes, now. As Cas watched him, the smile on his own face grew broader, until he finally huffed out a real, unrestrained laugh. The two of them stayed like that for a solid 15 seconds, while Dean was left to struggle with what just happened, all by himself.

“You both suck!” Dean barked, downing the rest of his beer and then standing up roughly enough to cause his chair to slide back almost a foot. He strode to the refrigerator, puffing out his chest and desperately trying to regain his composure. Leaning down to reach the remaining stash of bottles in the back (gotta make a run, he thought briefly), he ground his teeth together and closed his eyes. 'They sound stupid when they laugh', his mind spat. 'Assholes'.

 

 

 


	8. Tricks and Dances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of: 'The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date' (not yet written - WIP)
> 
> Sam needs to teach Cas how to blend at the nightclub. It's Socializing 101 and slow going. To break up the agony of the monotonous, repetitious lessons, he decides to skip to teaching Cas how to couple-dance - nightclub style.  
> Dean does not approve of his methods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This could be easily titled 'How the Winchesters Created A Monster: The Beginning', but that seemed less specific and I wouldn't remember what it meant later. So...Tricks and Dances it'll be for now.
> 
> Btw...there will eventually be a chapter that could be titled 'How the Winchesters Created A Monster: The Reckoning'...that chapter is gonna be good. Hopefully, by the time I write it, it'll be in an actual fic and not floating in this randomness. It'll also be the chapter that will contain the happenings Sam is referring to in "How to Make a Winchester Blush". 
> 
> This is a fluff and crack extravaganza, in part outline/part written format.  
> Enjoy!

* 'The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date'

**

_In the lead up, Sam teaches Cas some tricks and some specific dance moves. One of the tricks is "How's my tie?" Another is, "I have a knee injury', whenever someone asks Cas to dance...because the solo dancing lessons have been an unrecoverable train-wreck. Sam is kind, as usual, but convinces Cas that....well...No. Do not dance solo. Only dance with Sam._

_Sam, on the other hand, makes short work of getting his club dancing back on track. He demos for Cas, and also for Dean, who happened to come back to the motel room earlier than expected. Cas watches him, wide-eyed and dazzled, mouth hanging open._

_"You're gonna let the flies in." Dean says, looking at Cas out of the corner of his eye._

_Cas turns and stares at him._

_"Close your mouth, Cas," Dean says, slightly irritated. He's both proud of Sam and annoyed that Cas is so fascinated by him. He rolls his eyes and sags down onto the edge of the far bed._

_Sam takes Cas through a basic step-touch, through a couple of simple turns, and finally graduates him to 'convince the room that we are a real couple.' He searches for some slower, less club-ish music, to make the beat more easily recognizable. Scanning the motel radio, he finds 'Put Your Records On' by Corrine Bailey Rae. That beat will work._

**

 

"Ok," Sam said strolling back over to Cas. He took a deep breath and let his shoulders relax. Looking at his friend, with a small grin he asked, "Do you trust me?"

Cas nodded emphatically. "Of course, Sam."

Clearing his throat once, Sam dropped all the barriers and grabbed Cas firmly around the waist. He pulled his friend all the way to him, pressing their bellies together and giving Cas zero room to manoeuvre. He stepped one leg between Cas's and bent his knees, all but forcing Cas to do the same, so that each of them had one thigh between his partner's legs. Sam then leaned much further toward Cas, forcing his friend's pelvis up against his own.

Cas's eyes had grown very wide, now, and he was staring up at Sam. His loose arms have instinctively come up to grab at Sam's shirt sleeves as he tried to get his legs back under himself.

"Nope," Sam ordered. "Don't move." Cas halted and did his best to balance. "Just relax. I've got you. You won't fall."

Sam adjusted to take up the tiny amount of separation Cas had managed to gain by moving, and they were once again firmly locked together.

"Ok, now put your arm all the way around my neck, so the inside of your elbow is on the back of my neck." 

Cas thought about that for a moment, then moved his right arm into position.

"Good...that's good, Cas." Sam sighed again. Then he pulled back just enough to look Cas in the eye. "This is gonna feel kinda...um...inappropriate, Cas.  I'm sorry."

Cas looked at him very seriously.  "It will help me to learn this dance?"

"Yep," Sam said, trying his best to be light-hearted and cheerful, considering he could feel every inch of the front of Cas's torso pressed to his own. "Ready?"

"I'm ready." Cas nodded slightly.

"So, just relax. I'm gonna hold you up, until you get a feel for what we're doing."

"Ok." Cas grabbed roughly at Sam's shirt again, when Sam dropped his knees several inches suddenly and began to pulse up and down to the beat of the song. It was just the right tempo and Cas was able to join the movement on his own fairly quickly, allowing his legs to support him more. He then remembered to drop his left arm back down to his side, to loosely swing, elbow slightly bent.

"That's perfect, Cas. Good job." 

"Thank you," Cas said mechanically. He was completely focused on doing this correctly and had little mental energy left for pleasantries.

"Ok, let's try this," Sam mumbled into Cas's ear and shoulder. He gyrated his hips and knees from side to side as he lowered them both down and back up, effectively forcing Cas to lean back more into Sam's bracing arms. Again, Cas clambered for balance, but quickly allowed himself to be supported by his friend and relaxed into the steady rhythm of gyrations.

"Ok, last thing...and this might feel...weird."

"This already feels weird, Sam," Cas said drily into Sam's neck. "But, please proceed."

Sam sighed again. "So...I'm gonna let go of your upper back. Your bo...your vessel will naturally want to lean back a little more, and that's good. Go with that." Sam moved his arm down to grasp Cas's loose hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. "And, let your head drop back a little." 

As Cas let his head and shoulders fall back, Sam moved his mouth in a very slow and breathy glide over Cas's jaw, neck and exposed clavicle.

"Jesus," Dean began.

"NOT ONE FUCKING WORD, DEAN! I SWEAR TO GOD!" Sam's voice boomed against Cas's throat and he felt his friend flinch. "Sorry, Cas."

"Is this everything, Sam?" Cas asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, immediately straightening up and assisting Cas back to fully upright. "Yeah, Cas, that's it. And you know, if we need anything else, you can just watch what people are doing around you. Maybe imitate some of it. Stuff that seems kinda relationship-ish." Sam cleared his throat and pulled away entirely, trying to conceal his incredible discomfort.

Cas spent a moment straightening his clothes, then looked up at Sam with a soft smile, seemingly unphased. "Thank you, Sam. I believe that will be effective in conveying to others that we are a couple."

Dean snorted. "Ya think?"

"Dean," Sam growled, his face threatening to make it a slow death.

"Jeez, Sam!" Dean half-chuckled. He dragged one hand down his face, trying to wipe away the embarrassment and horror of what he'd just witnessed.

"We have to sell it," Sam insisted. "If I do something like that and Cas reacts like he's surprised or uncomfortable, its gonna blow our cover. They're gonna be watching everyone really close."

"Well, hell, Sam, you could just rip his pants off and blow him right there on the dance floor! That'd sell it, too!" 

"I'd prefer you didn't do that, Sam," Cas said, quietly, a tiny hint of worry in his voice for the first time that evening. "If it's avoidable."

Dean's sarcastic grin became a sincere one for just a moment, as he glanced over at his friend's wide, confused eyes.

"Don't listen to him," Sam barked at Cas. He shoved one hand roughly through his own long hair and huffed out a big breath, as he crossed his arms over his chest. Dean wondered if he'd ever seen his brother this embarrassed. He didn't think so.

"This is already...you need to...just stop trying to make this harder!" Sam's eyes and mouth both slammed shut immediately. When he opened his eyes again, the glee on Dean's face let him know the inevitable response had already been formed in his evil mind.

"I aint the one tryin' to make things HARD, Sammy!"

"I hate you." Sam dropped his arms and slumped onto the edge of the other bed.

"Nah!" Dean said, slapping his hands down on his own thighs and standing. "You can't hate me. I'm delightful!" He smiled hugely at no one in particular. "C'mere, Cas." Dean reached for his friend and dragged him over to stand beside him. "I'm gonna show you how to DANCE with someone, ok?" Dean reached over to adjust the radio, searching for a suitable song. Finding one, he reached and took hold of Cas's upper back and one hand.

"Sam was teaching me how to dance," Cas complained.

"Nooo...Sam was teaching you how to commit a felony. Now, put your other hand on my shoulder and just follow my lead."

 

**

_Dean teaches Cas the two-step, the country waltz, a couple of very simple West Coast Swing moves, and finally, a simple, very slow sway. Sam decides to go get them food (i.e. get the hell out of there for a while to recover.) He gets to the car and realizes he's forgotten the room key. He goes back and is about to knock on the door, but stops when he catches sight of them through a small gap in the curtains. He decides he doesn't need the key. Dean and Cas both look relaxed and completely content. Their eyes are closed, their faces lightly pressed into the other's shoulder. It was one song...4 minutes of peace. Sam wasn't gonna take that from them._

**


	9. What Cas Said

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of: 'The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date' (not yet written - WIP)
> 
> Alright, alright, dammit! Here's my preliminary stab at what Cas whispered into Sam's ear to get him to blush. (See Chapter 2 of this jumbled collection of drabbles, if you don't know what I'm talking about.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How's this, folks? Filthy enough? 
> 
> Heehee
> 
> Let me know what y'all think, please! I do not have mad dirty-talk skills...like, none, actually. Could use a hand.

* 'The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date'

(Attempt at dorty-talk #1)

"You're mine.  
I will have you.  
Tonight.  
My mouth will find every square inch.  
I will wrap my tongue around your cock, before I eat you alive  
and you will beg me for mercy.  
I will fuck every hole you have until I am satisfied  
and leave you covered in my seed and screaming my name."

**HazelDomain and grrlplay: I took the 'like a snake' part out, and now it just sounds...weird. *sigh* I do not have dirty-talk skills. LOL

 

**Ok, folks...time to see how the sausage is made. HD just gave me a good suggestion - include compliments in the dorty-talk (NOTE: 'dorty-talk' is a creation of the venerable HazelDoman and is now the way I intend to refer to all filthy language. 'Cause it's hilarious.)   
I'm gonna leave the iterations out here. It'll be something I can use to shame and humiliate myself later, after I've created an actual fic and gotten it the way I want it. I figure it's good for the soul.

(Attempt at dorty-talk #2)

"I see the way they look at you.  
Imagining how you'd feel. How you'd look. How you'd taste.  
But you are Mine.  
I will have you.  
I will feel you beneath me. Taste you as I slide my tongue over every delicious inch.  
I will see you...beautiful, naked and writhing...glistening with sweat as I fuck you into ecstasy  
and I will not be satisfied until you are covered in our seed and screaming my name."

  
( **Winning dorty-talk entry, submitted by our own HazelDomain** )

'I want you to know that when we get home, I'm either riding you, or licking you open and then fucking you through the mattress. You have two hours to decide.'

Now THAT is how to make a Winchester Blush! Kudos, HD! And many thanks for saving my ass....again.


	10. 1st Half of Chapter 1 of 'The Tether'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of: 'The Tether' (http://archiveofourown.org/works/8018521)
> 
> Ok...you all have been so wonderful with your comments and thoughts, and I cannot thank you enough!  
> So, without further ado...I'm letting you all know that I just placed Chapter 1 of 'The Tether' out here on AO3. What you read or have read in the drabble below is actually the first half of that official chapter. So, if you decide you'd like to read 'The Tether', please know that you can skip down to the *** and continue reading from there, if you have already read this piece.   
> (There were some style and composition changes made between this version and the 'official' version, but they're nothing meaningful. Mainly 'flow' issues and a couple of typos.)
> 
> Thank you so much. Again and again. You each have my sincere gratitude.

* 'The Tether' (http://archiveofourown.org/works/8018521)

 

“Sammy,” Mary called out as she very slowly entered the library. Her hands held two plastic bottles each. Another three bottles were tucked between her left arm and her body. “Sweetheart, what are all of these?”

Sam looked up from his seat at the far table and smiled. He quickly shuffled a book out of his lap and stood to move toward her.  

“I mean, they’re obviously hair products, but...what are...what’s an ‘emollient’? Is one of these shampoo? I just need shampoo. Oh!" She stopped, finally seeing the word ‘shampoo’ written in small print and essentially hidden among the endless marketing jargon on the bottle’s label. She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Yeah, that one’s pretty good.” Sam then handed her another bottle. “This is the conditioner that goes with it.”

“These two are the ones you use? You’re hair is so nice, baby. I’ll use what you use, if you don’t mind.”

“Actually, I use them all. Kinda depends on how my hair feels, ya know? Sometimes it needs this one. Other times, it gets really dry and I use these…” Sam was pointing to each of the bottles, now, explaining their virtues and shortcomings.

Mary’s smile began to morph into a partial grimace, but she held it together pretty well. She sighed and stared at the multitude of choices. “Don’t you have a regular bottle of Prell I can use?”

Sam stared at her for a moment, his mind trying to place that word. He knew he’d heard it before.

Mary sighed, seeing his confusion, and decided to just use the two he’d pointed out. “Nevermind. These’ll work.” She set the remainder of the bottles down on the table next to her. “What are you working on?”

Sam shook himself out of his staring reverie. This was a particularly disturbing new habit he’d acquired, since his mom’s sudden arrival. Dean had made a point of telling him to knock it off, more than once.

He moved quickly back over to his open laptop and sat down. Turning the screen so she could see, he began to tell Mary about the set of sigils he’d found in an old, handwritten book in the bunker library. He was researching any new info he might be able to find on them. “Just checking the reliability of the descriptions in the book,” he explained. “And to see if there has been any additional research on them in the last hundred years or so, since that book was written.”

Mary stood next to him, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder. She watched as Sam opened window after window, each one displaying volumes of information from all over the world. Her face showed the completely reasonable sense of awe that this fascinating piece of human technology should inspire.

“That is the neatest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I will never get over this,” she murmured. Sam gave a little snort and grinned, as she leaned down and kissed the top of his head.

“Ok...gotta get cleaned up. Where’s your brother?” she asked, putting the two chosen bottles in her left hand and sweeping the remaining bottles up in her right arm, hugging them to her chest.

“The garage.”

Mary winced. “Still tryin’ to get the suspension right, huh?”

Sam shook his head and sighed. “Seems Chuck doesn’t really get just how bad it is to drop a big car like that.” He grinned, then turned back to his screen. “He’ll find it. Somethin’s just bent.”

“Hopefully not the frame,” Mary mumbled, continuing toward the hallway.

“Oh, man…” Sam chortled. “Please don’t let him hear you say that.”

Mary giggled. “Dinner’s at six,” she yelled back over her shoulder.

“What?” Sam answered, a bit startled. “Mom, you don’t have to cook for us! We just throw a sandwich together or something. I mean, unless you’re cooking for yourself, ya know? Don’t just do it for us!”

Mary stopped and turned to look at her boy.

“Old habits die hard,” she said with a grin. “Besides, it seems like one of the very few things I can do without needing a lecture on the ways everything has changed over the last 33 years.” She sighed heavily. “It’s something I can do on auto-pilot, ya know? After the days I have now...by the time the evening rolls around, my brain could use a break?”

Sam smiled sympathetically and nodded.

“Oh, and please tell Cas, too,” she said and as she turned back toward the hallway, she took half a step and bumped directly into a large, solid lump of tan. She jumped and sucked in a lungful of air.

“Hello, Mary.”

“Jeez, Cas,” she breathed out, rocking back on her heels and closing her eyes, trying to collect herself. The bottles began to slip from her arm and Cas reached quickly to take them from her.

“Oh...thanks…” Mary said quietly, still a bit flustered. “This... arrival method of yours...it’s gonna take some getting used to.” She finally looked up and was greeted with a benevolent, but blank stare.

“You were looking for me,” Cas stated. He noticed that Mary appeared to be somewhat uncomfortable. Guessing at the problem, he took one step back, watching for her reaction. She seemed to relax just a bit and he made a mental note (‘Mary: 0.65 meters’.)

“Yeah...I just wanted you to know we’re gonna eat at 6.” Mary continued to stare back at him, completely unable to look away.

Cas paused for a moment, processing her statement. Then his eyes brightened. “Ah.” He said, smiling softly and nodding. “Dinner. Yes.” He seemed to shrink a little and dropped his gaze entirely. “Thank you. It’s...very kind of you to invite me.” He was fidgeting, now, Mary noticed.

With that, Mary relaxed completely and chuckled. “It’s not an invite, Cas, you live here. This family eats dinner together...whenever we can... that’s just how it is.” She tilted her head down and gave him a half-stern look, pointing the end of the conditioner bottle at him for emphasis. “So, don’t be late.” She grinned at him until he smiled back at her sheepishly.

“Ok,” he answered.

“Ok.” Mary playfully popped him once on the arm with the bottle as she moved past him toward the bathroom. He watched her go, remaining fixed in that position even after she’d turned the far corner. Suddenly, Mary appeared again. She looked up and almost stopped, seeing him staring back at her, not having moved at all.

“Um…” she said, a little unnerved again. “I forgot those,” she said pointing to the bottles Cas was holding for her.

“Oh...yes,” he moved forward to hand them to her. Then moved back quickly, once she had them.

Mary couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks,” she said, taking the bottles and walking back toward the bathroom.

It was becoming clear to her why her boys seemed to care about him so much. He was a flake...there was no doubt about that...but he was trying so damned hard! And that’s really tough to not like.

She knew there was a lot more there...a whole lot of back-story, and she’d already gotten the impression that she wasn’t gonna like all of it, but...at the moment, he seemed absolutely desperate to please, so she figured they were all still safe. He probably wasn’t gonna hulk out and smite anyone. She could relax. For now, at least.


	11. You're the Partner I Always Needed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part of: (not yet associated with any fic)
> 
> Dean talking to Cas. Cas is still feeling somewhat insecure about his ability to be useful. Still trying to determine his role, now, after everything that has happened. Dean is amazed at how little Cas understands what he means to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another drabble that comes out of nowhere and abruptly ends. yay!
> 
> I wrote this, thinking it would fit one place, but it didn't. Then I tried to put it somewhere else and it didn't work there either. But I like it and I don't wanna lose it into the ether, so...here it is.
> 
> PS: It may be pieces of two converstaions...I dunno. Not feelin' it stronger one way or the other.

Part of: (not yet associated with any fic)

 

 

***************

“I already forgave you, Cas. We both did. And I  _ do _ trust you.” Dean said, his level of frustration rising. “You gotta trust  _ me _ ... that I’m not lying to you.”

***************

“It’s not just me, man. It’s not just knowin’ that if things go south, you’re gonna have my back. I mean...that’s awesome! It’s...freakin’ huge! But I know I can trust you with  _ Sam _ . That if Sam goes off and does somethin’, and I can’t be there to watch out for him…if you’re with him, he’s gonna be ok. You have any idea what that does, Cas? What that means to me? The relief? I mean, I’m still gonna worry, ‘cause I ain’t ever gonna shake that. It’s the way I’m wired. And Sam hates it, I know.  But when he’s got you with him, I don’t have to feel like any second there’s gonna be a phone call wanting to know if I’m next of kin. Or worse...no phone call. Ever.”

He chuckled humorlessly, shaking his head, and continued.

“You don’t realize who you are, do you?” he asked.

Cas looked at him directly, now. He seemed a bit confused, but there was more there. For just a moment, he actually seemed eager to hear this. Like maybe Dean was really going to tell him the answer to that question. 

Dean saw just a flicker of hope in his friend’s eyes, for the first time in a long, long while, and it made him smile.

“You’re the guy I needed the whole time, Cas. When my dad was gone, he was just...gone. It was sudden and I was totally alone.  And not just because there wasn’t another hunter ridin’ shotgun. When I got Sammy back, it was fantastic. It felt like the world was right, again...sort of....as good as it was gonna get, anyway. Until I realized that him being a grown up… him havin’ all the skills and the smarts and everything else that makes Sam amazing...none of that mattered.  ‘Cause in the back of my mind, he would ALWAYS be the kid I had to protect. That was NEVER goin’ away. And that meant, that even though I had the best hunter I was ever gonna find sittin’ right there... I was STILL alone. It was still ALL up to me. And I know it’s stupid. It’s not ‘logical’ or ‘rational’. It’s just gut-level panic that’s freakin’ ALWAYS there. And the only time it’s not clawin’ it’s way through my brain is when I’m hunting, or gettin’ laid, or too drunk to walk. And that’s my life.”

“Hell, Cas...you’re killin' yourself trying to be "useful", thinkin’ you’re some sort of drag on me...and I’m just wishin’ you’d shown up a hell of a lot sooner. ‘Cause I’ve been alone in this for too damned long...”

***********************

 


	12. Aneran and Dean talk about tethering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!  
> Aneran and Dean talk about tethering. Dean implies Aneran and his team might be selfish bastards like the rest of the angels. This does not engender warmth and cuddliness in the angel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!  
> This scene fragment may or may not make it into that fic.  
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!  
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea. A lot of it sucks. Dialog is bad or OOC. Totally and completely un-beta'd...even by me, for the most part. Most of this will be re-written, before being included anywhere. Especially now that I've found out I suck at dialog tags and am currently freaking out, trying to train myself out of some ugly bad habits. Habits that have left turds all over the work in this collection. Like freakin' mice who aren't afraid of you anymore and will totally shit all over your house.

***** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! *****

JUST IN CASE YOU DIDN'T READ THE SUMMARY. Or the NOTES. (i.e. If your user name happens to be ** SWAMPBOT**!)

IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS!

 

 

“Yeah,” the angel said softly. “Tethers can be...tough. It’s not easy for either side. Especially not at first.”

“You’ve done it?” Dean asked, a little surprised.

“Yeah. A bunch of times, actually. We all have,” Aneran said. “My team, I mean.”

“I thought it was a really rare thing?”

“It is,” the angel confirmed. “Very rare. Unless, of course, you’re cut off from Heaven and really need a way to consistently recharge.” He gave Dean a knowing look and grinned. “If the well runs dry, you gotta find new ways to get water in one hell of a hurry. You take what you can get and hope for the best.”

“It’s dangerous though, right? Touchin’ a human soul? Weren’t you worried about the human? And your vessel?”

“Oh...it’s freakin’ terrifying. I was scared to death I was gonna kill us all the first couple of times! Trust me!”

“Well...that was a hell of a risk for those people,” Dean said, staring at him a little suspiciously. “You don’t think maybe that’s pretty damned selfish?”

Aneran blinked at him, a little shocked. He still couldn’t quite get used to this man’s willingness to openly attack absolutely anyone at the first hint of any impropriety. It was...jarring.

He considered Dean for a long moment, as his expression went through multiple variations, before settling on something just a little to the left of fury.

“You wanna start comparin’ reckless shit we’ve done out of desperation, Dean? Really? ‘Cause there’s nobody in this whole fuckin’ bunker who’d walk outta that pissin’ contest smilin’!”

They glared at each other for a moment longer, while Dean thought it through.

“So…” Dean said, still staring at the angel, but backing off a little. “Why’d you do it, then?”

 

“There ya go…” Aneran said, not hiding the sarcasm. “That’s the question you should have started with.” He glared at him a moment longer, and then let it drop.

“It wasn’t just so we could keep our own ‘angel mojo’ topped off,” he snarked. “You already know we can survive without power. But we can’t heal ourselves or anyone else, we can’t fly, our ability to fight or protect our charges is extremely limited… At zero power, we’re effectively human. Which means we really don’t deserve to have a host vessel at all, because...I mean...that’s just one human taking over another human. What’s the point? But if we’re gonna actually try to do anything good...help anybody...we need to have power.”

“So you only do it so you can help people,” Dean restated for him. He still sounded suspicious.

Aneran chuckled humorlessly.

“Yeah...that’s right,” he said as he glared back at the man. “As hard as it may be for you to believe, we aren’t self-serving pricks! We actually give a shit! Which is the whole reason we’re bustin’ our asses down here with you, instead of going back to live in relative obscurity in Heaven, which would be a much easier existence, by the way!”

“We never had anything like the pressures Castiel had. Nobody was lookin’ to any of us for anything spectacular. We were grunts. And in Heaven, that’s actually the sweet spot! They leave you alone. Nobody’s askin’ you to swoop into Hell or lead a civil rebellion! Or a coup! Or stop the fuckin’ apocalypse! Our lives were easy. There were battles, and very rarely an assignment that actually had some challenge to it. It was just the luck of the draw that we happened to be the ones sent to protect that tribe. It could have been any angels. But it was us. And we got to learn exactly how cold-hearted and vicious Heaven’s leadership actually was! There was no way any of us could just go back and act like it didn’t happen!”


	13. Aneran and Dean talk: Angels; Hell; Physics+Alcohol=Bad Analogies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
> Aneran and Dean talk about: angel generations and heirarchy; rescuing Dean from Hell; Dean remembers, but not enough; most angels are dicks.  
> Dean entertains himself by watching Aneran slowly get drunk. The angel confirms that Cas is, in fact, a bad ass and a fantastic strategist. And also a geezer.  
> Do not ask someone to explain physics principles while drinking. It will be all over the place and make zero sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!  
> This scene fragment may or may not make it into that fic.  
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!  
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea. A lot of it sucks. Dialog is bad or OOC. Totally and completely un-beta'd...even by me, for the most part. Most of this will be re-written, before being included anywhere. Especially now that I've found out I suck at dialog tags and am currently freaking out, trying to train myself out of some ugly bad habits. Habits that have left turds all over the work in this collection. Like freakin' mice who aren't afraid of you anymore and will totally shit all over your house.

***** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! *****

JUST IN CASE YOU DIDN'T READ THE SUMMARY. Or the NOTES. (i.e. If your user name happens to be SWAMPBOT!) <\--This will be in as many iterations of this as it takes, my dearest friend. I love you. Now read the goddamned notes!

IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS!

**YET ANOTHER NOTE: The dialog in here definitely gets OOC. I'm aware. Drifts between Dean and Sam and then just...lousy. But, again, I wrote it fast to get the idea out before I forgot. Sorry.**

 

 

“We don’t have a physical form...not in Hell. A physical vessel wouldn’t survive long, unless we created an entire habitation bubble. And that would take a whole lot of power...which would be a really bad idea, ‘cause we can’t recharge when we’re there.”

“So how’d he get me out? If I wasn’t going willingly? How’d he hang on to me?”

“It was tricky. And Castiel knew it would be, so he had a plan ahead of time. Which was great, except he didn’t tell anybody. He just knew it would work, so...that’s what he did.” Aneran shook his head and grinned. “The guy is so freakin’ smart, he can be a real idiot sometimes.”

Dean snorted. Cas was consistent. He’d give him that.

“He knew you’d fight him. Almost certainly. I mean, you had no idea who we were or why we were there...or what was going on. If we’d gotten to you immediately, I’m sure we could have convinced you to come along, but...with the amount of time you’d already been there, we knew you wouldn’t exactly be... ‘ok’... when we finally got to you,” Aneran said quietly. He looked up and met Dean’s eyes.

That needed no further explanation. Dean swallowed...then nodded and looked back at his beer. They were both quiet for a moment.

“He went after you immediately, Dean.” Aneran said quietly. “And I can promise you...he’d have gotten you out within a day or two, if Heaven woulda given him what he’d asked for. I mean...he was ready. You shoulda seen his plan.” He started to smile at the memory.

“Did you know he wanted to take his entire garrison in after you? The whole thing. All of them! He wanted to blow a hole in the side of Hell the size of Texas and with the plan he laid out, he coulda done it! It was an epic plan...the likes of which we hadn’t seen since Lucifer fell.”

“And when I say epic, I don’t just mean because of it’s scale...it was strategically brilliant, too. And, it had to be...they knew we were comin’ for ya. Knew it a year beforehand and had been planning and shoring up Hell the whole time. They were ready for us.” Aneran took a swig from his beer. He momentarily let his gaze drift off, and Dean watched the angel’s face react to what he knew must have been some fairly intense memories.

Then Aneran was back in the moment. He looked at Dean and grinned again.

“He also had about a dozen contingency plans ready, just in case.” He snorted, remembering his conversations with his former commander. “He is amazing.”

Dean chuckled. That wasn’t hard to believe. Cas was nothing if not ridiculously thorough.

“He wanted to save you, Dean. I mean, don’t get me wrong… Preventing the apocalypse was the ONLY reason Heaven sent him to get you out. There’s no question. We could NOT let it happen. And Heaven very rarely goes after an innocent soul after it’s already gone to Hell. Which...is bullshit, but… That’s the way it is.”

“But I know him well enough to know that the idea of The Righteous Man suffering in Hell really got to him. The mission was everything, but the tug on his heartstrings...that was the extra drive that made him so fierce.”

“I’m not surprised, though,” he continued. “The innocent suffering unjustly… That’s always been Castiel’s kryptonite. Even after all the times he’s been forced to override it, that instinct is solid in him. It eats at him. So… He didn’t care what he was gonna have to do. There would be no apocalypse and The Righteous Man would not be staying in Hell!” Aneran pounded his fist lightly on the table for dramatic emphasis. He chuckled again and took another swig.

 

 *****(fill in here...maybe?)*****  

  
He volunteered the moment your soul left the Earthly plane, and those sons’a bitches running things…” He sighed heavily, staring down at his beer. “Those lying sons’a bitches…” he said mostly to himself.

Aneran went quiet for a bit. Dean waited. This was getting harder for him, he could tell. It wasn’t like it had been easy for Dean to talk about either, but something about the amount of time it took was upsetting the angel. Something about Cas’s plan…

“We didn’t know...my team and I…” Aneran finally looked up. “We didn’t know any of it was happening until Castiel sent that open distress call. By the time we finally made our way to him… It was… Dean, the way he looked…” Aneran shook his head and huffed, leaning back in his chair.

“He was desperate to get to you,” he said, a little more quietly. “He’d already caught a glimpse of you, by then. They’d gotten close enough for him to actually see you for a few moments. But then Hell sent in everything it had and he couldn’t get to you before they moved you, again. It had to have been awful for him. You were so close...He’d gotten so close...”

“But, when he saw your soul… I dunno… It did something to him.” Aneran looked over at Dean. A few seconds passed, and then his eyes brightened a bit, like he was remembering some sentimental scene from an old movie. “Something about you got to him in a way I’d only rarely seen anything get to him. He was… I really don’t know how to describe it. But I do know that he was absolutely gonna get you out. He’d do anything and everything necessary. I mean... that’s always been his m.o. during an important mission anyway. ‘Cause he’s…ya know...a badass.”

Dean snorted and grinned.

Aneran huffed out a quick laugh, as well.

“But, I knew it wasn’t just about the mission for him anymore. And he wasn’t thinkin’ about the consequences.” They were both still lightly chuckling from the ‘badass’ comment, but now Dean cut him off.

“See...this is… you guys drive me nuts! What the hell does that mean…’consequences?’ Of what? What exactly did he do down there?” Dean demanded. The frustration of years of half-answers and evasions from his friend finally surfacing.

“I feel like I don’t know anything at all about any of this...and I was there! I don’t even know...the right questions to ask, half the time. But it doesn’t matter, ‘cause Cas won’t tell me anything!”

Dean rubbed his eyes.

“I remember being there. Right before Cas got me out. I...um...I know what I was...doing. Just before… I remember it. And then I was in a box, buried six feet deep and could barely breathe.”

“But, then I get these...flashes...sometimes,” he said, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “Like I’m trying to remember something, but I can’t quite figure out...what I’m...I guess I should say ‘seeing’, but it’s more like...I just know something’s there. And even though I’m not really seeing it with my eyes, I still know it’s bright! Really, really bright! Flashing... like a strobe light or lightning in a really dark sky.” He turned his head slightly, gazing off and away. His brow was furrowed with concentration as he fought to remember. “It’s clearest just before I wake up. But then...I can’t remember enough of it…”

He looked back at Aneran. The angel was grinning.

“That was Cas, wasn’t it?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” Aneran said quietly. He smiled.

‘Why can’t I remember?”

“You were asking me about ‘consequences.’ So...let me explain a little about how he got you out and maybe it’ll help this part to make a little more sense, too.” He looked briefly toward the ceiling and winced a bit. “Well...maybe it will. I dunno. The human brain really isn’t compatible with the dimensions we normally inhabit…”

“Yeah...ok...professor. This is starting to sound familiar.”

Aneran chuckled.

“Sorry...I, uh...yeah, I’ll stick to the basics. And look,” he said, raising a hand to show sincerity. “None of this is meant as a dig. There’s just a lot that’s...we’re just really different. That’s all. Some of it is very hard if not impossible to really explain.”

Dean sighed and leaned back in his chair. He was starting to look annoyed again, and Aneran couldn’t help but smile.

“Ok…” Aneran took a swig of beer and shifted into a more comfortable position. Those wooden chairs were tough on an ass. Even a borrowed ass.

“You remember that ‘yarn’ analogy I used to describe our true form, right? All the yarn is from the same sheep, and you bundle it all together and tie up the ends…”

Dean nodded slowly.

“Ok, so...Castiel is that bundle of yarn. And the yarn is saturated with his grace. Like it’s been soaked in the stuff. Except...grace and Hell are incompatible. When Hell’s...um...when the stuff that makes up Hell...Let’s say it’s Hell-matter.” He chuckled and groaned. “Man this is a terrible analogy…”

Dean snorted, then jumped in to try to help him out.

“You’re doing the whole…’matter and antimatter annihilate each other’ thing, right, except with bits of Hell and bits of grace? That’s where you’re going with this?”

“And you say you don’t get stuff.” Aneran said with a mock-grimace. Dean snorted.

“That’s exactly what I’m sayin’. It’s...totally wrong, but...it’ll work for this, so...let’s just roll with it.”

“You could try explaining what it actually is, ya know,” Dean said, grinning a challenge at the angel. “I might just get it.”

“You know...I honestly don’t doubt that,” Aneran smiled, nodding at Dean appreciatively. “But you gotta understand...it’s not just about you. This is… If you want me to come up with everyday analogies to try to explain how classical and quantum physics apply in all eleven true physical dimensions...I needed to ’ve stopped drinkin’, like, an hour ago.”

Dean nearly did a spit take, and burst out laughing.

“This shit is hard when I’m totally sober, man,” Aneran followed up, through a loud series of giggles. “Gimme a break…”

Dean threw his head back and laughed until it hurt. When he was finally able to properly breathe again, he reached up and rubbed his eyes, then looked over at the angel.

“Damn, man...I’m glad you’re here. Seriously…” Dean sighed, letting the last of the giggles out, before pulling it all the way together. He noticed their beers were low and went to the refrigerator to get a fresh supply.

“I know Cas tries. I do. I used to wonder if he was trying to make stuff hard to understand on purpose,” he said, walking back to the table with two beers each. “We actually had a good talk about it a couple weeks back. Right after you arrived. The day of, if I remember right.” He popped open two of the bottles, and slid one to Aneran.

“He, uh...he heard me think somethin’ along those lines,” Dean said, staring down at his bottle. He took a long swig, and sighed. “I wouldn’t’ve said it that way. The way it came outta my head. He was pretty upset.” He picked absently at the label on his bottle.

Aneran nodded slowly and dropped his gaze down to his own bottle.

“Yeah… Verbal filters are handy,” he said, and winced at Dean.

 

***** _(fill in here...or...something. I dunno yet.)***_**

 

  
“And I don’t get why he won’t tell me…” he said, dejectedly. “I guess... maybe he thinks I’m not gonna understand... ‘cause I don’t get the whole ‘wavelengths’ and ‘dimensions’ stuff? I dunno,” he said, and waved one hand dismissively. “I just know it’d be really nice to have some idea what’s goin’ on though, ya know? Once in awhile!”

Aneran grinned and nodded.

“He has his own set of rules for himself. What responsibilities he thinks should be his and his alone,” Aneran said. “It’s incredibly self-sacrificing. And valiant. And I respect it, a lot of the time, but…” He paused and shook his head.

“But…” Dean coaxed, knowingly.

“Sometimes I just... wanna stab him in the neck with my fork!”

“Wow,” Dean said, a little startled. “Damn, man...don’t hold back! Lemme know how ya feel!”

“It’s fuckin’ maddening!” Aneran all but shouted. He tipped up his beer and took a healthy swig.

“Yeah…” Dean sighed. “Yeah it is. I’ve figured out he’s usually doing it to protect me, though... somehow.” He thought about that for a second. “Actually I think he’s always doing it to protect me. Or Sam or...someone. Or the whole freakin’ world! I can’t really think of a time he was intentionally doing it just to protect himself.”

“That sounds about right,” Aneran agreed.

“I don’t get it, though,” Dean continued. “He knows we need information a whole lot more often than we need protection. It seems like he’s finally figured out that he needs to tell us stuff...but it’s like his first instinct is to cover, ya know? It’s just knee-jerk for him. And that just means we won’t get all the information until it’s too late.”

Aneran listened to him, slowly nodding his understanding.

“He definitely has his reasons for some of what he does...whether I agree with them or not. But...I’ll tell you... I’m pretty sure what you just said is closer to the truth than you think.” Aneran took another swig and shifted forward in his seat.

“Lemme ‘splain…” he said, setting his beer down on the table a little loudly. “Our Father made the archangels as companions. Yeah...I know there’s a whole lot written about how he needed them to help him keep his Creation on track and steer things the right way...yada yada…” he said, picking his beer back up and waving it around a bit..

Dean grinned. It was always entertaining to watch an angel get drunk.

“But that’s just...crap! They were companions, pure and simple. Father wanted somebody around to look at his Creation and be all excited about it. Tell him how cool it was. The whole…’genius needs an audience’...’external validation’ crap…’er whatever...” Aneran took a deep breath and burped a little. Then he cleared his throat.

“But, his Creation got WAAAAY complicated, like REEEAAALLY quick, right?”

Dean nodded, still grinning. ‘ _Yep...“whole liquor store”-level tanked. Awesome!’_ He huffed out a subtle laugh, and took another swig of his beer.

_'You, um, breed with the mouth of a goat.’_

Dean flinched. His memory reproduced the sound of Cas’s voice so perfectly, it was as though his friend had appeared right next to him, and repeated the translated joke into his ear. He pictured Cas’s face as he’d said it...the small smile and hint of laughter, as he’d looked at each of his friends expectantly. And then his face fell. His smile and momentary glee faded when he realized his friends hadn’t understood. Again.

      ‘ _It’s funnier in Enochian.’_

 _‘It was funny in English, Cas,’_ Dean thought, instinctively clicking into prayer mode. His grin was gone, now, too. _‘I just didn’t get it at first. But...it was funny. You got it right.’_ He swallowed and gripped his beer much tighter.

He almost looked to his left.

He almost apologized out loud.

He almost flexed his fingers to feel for the warm hand he’d held for so much of the last couple of weeks.

 _‘We’re almost outta whiskey.’_ The thought flickered through his mind for only a brief moment, but he clung to it like a lifeline. He counted the number of bottles he’d last seen in the pantry. Then he tried to remember how many beers were in the refrigerator, plus how many were in reserve, stored under the sink. He realized they might be a little low, but probably not an emergency. Yet.

Then he remembered he hadn’t had the Impala out in quite a while. He should put fresh gas in her tank. So maybe he should make a run after all. And he should check her tires. And wiper fluid. And oil level. But, later. Right now, Aneran was talking. He should focus on Aneran. Focus on Aneran.

“... there was a whole lot of work to be done,” Dean heard the angel say, as his mind merged back into the conversation. He hoped he hadn’t missed much. He didn’t think he had.

“So, he began creating the second generation of angels. And they were created to serve. To work and eventually to fight Heaven’s enemies. Most of them were designed with no free-will at all. And certainly no creativity. Their personalities were pretty flat.”

Aneran winced slightly, and looked down at his beer.

“Eh...that’s probably...I don’t mean to disparage them...I mean, I cared about some of ‘em. They were good to me. And I still miss ‘em. They just weren’t…” he sighed, pausing to think.

“They deserved better than they got, ya know? It wasn’t their fault Father created them that way. But it did make it almost impossible to get them to understand why we felt the things we did. Why we thought the way we did… Those of us who were created with emotional capabilities, I mean.”

“They were all very, very smart...that second generation... But, they did what they were told, and that was it.”

“Eventually, that became kinda problematic. Our Father realized that no creativity also meant a complete lack of initiative. They needed almost constant direction and hand-holding. And I think that just got tiresome for Him. I’ve always suspected that, anyway...” He downed the rest of his beer. Dean was ready with another for him. Aneran gave him a nod and popped off the cap.

“The ones that were made later in that generation...and Castiel was either the last one or nearly the last one… they were given a little creativity. And probably free-will, but nobody talks about that.” He rolled his eyes and took a swig from the new bottle.

“So, they could take some initiative. But like most younger siblings, they did their best to prove themselves to their older brothers and sisters. They developed the same ‘duty-only’ attitude and clung to it like it was a commandment from Father. Except it wasn’t. And I guess Father never got around to correcting that assumption. Or to actually talking to any of them again, after he created them…” Aneran sighed.

“So, angels like Castiel had to squash that part of themselves. Kinda like...that was something they had, but really it was useless and would just get in the way. And I think they even had some shame around it, ya know? Like...the fact that they could think for themselves or feel something more than a general devotion to our Father...they thought it was some sort of flaw and they needed to hide.”

“That attitude changed a little, over a very long time, but…the damage had been done. The second generation angels I knew were always reminding themselves and everyone else of our ‘primary duty to the mission.’ That any personal desires or urges were… It was like those things weren’t just supposed to be ignored. It was like we weren’t supposed to have them at all, so...just don’t even talk about ‘em.” Aneran shook his head. “And I was young and stupid, and they were amazing and brilliant and I just bought everything they said. I wound up stuffing all my own thoughts and feelings down, too. Everyone did. Until we were in a situation where we just couldn’t anymore...usually when there were ONLY other third generation angels around. We could let our guard down just a little, ya know? Share some of our real thoughts...and our feelings…We couldn’t share them openly in Heaven…”

He took another gulp from his bottle and looked away for a moment. He huffed...leaning hard on the table with his elbows. It looked like he might be getting a bit lost in the memories.

“So...the third generation...” Dean began slowly. “That’s you and your team, yeah?”

Aneran nodded.

“You guys… You’re able to feel everything? You got the whole…’emotion package’ right up front?” Dean asked.

“Um...kinda…” Aneran answered awkwardly. He grimaced and shifted a bit to get more comfortable.

“Actually, I probably left some important stuff out…” He looked up at Dean and pursed his lips. “I don’t know if you noticed, but...I’m a little drunk.”

Dean snorted again.

“Couldn’t tell,” he lied.

“Uh huh,” Aneran grunted. “So, anyway...I might be skipping stuff. No worries. I’ll get around to it, just...keep listening.”

Dean nodded and held his beer up in an informal salute.

The angel returned the gesture.

“Yeah, so...what was I saying...OH! Yeah… The archangels have the same emotional programming that our Father gave to all of his creations on the Earthly plane. So the archangels could feel anything and everything right away. And our Father had given them all the knowledge they’d need to be good companions for him.”

“The second generation...they didn’t need all that. They just needed to be smart and able to get things done. Follow directions. He wouldn’t have to tend to any of their emotional needs. They’d just...do stuff. They wouldn’t feel anything about it. Like big, extremely powerful robots.” He sighed heavily. “It wasn’t fair. They had at least some capacity to care. Ya know? To love. But any time they showed it at all…” He paused again and slowly turned his beer bottle around with his fingertips.

“They had it really hard,” he said quietly.

“If they showed it, they got it beat out of ‘em,” Dean finished for him.

Aneran grimaced and nodded.

“The worst part is...they did it to each other. They thought it was wrong to have any free thoughts or feelings, so... they punished each other for just being...normal.” There were tears in his eyes now. Dean thought about stopping him, but didn’t get the chance. Aneran dove back in.

“By the time my generation was being created, those old patterns were well established. There was no going back. And no one questioned it anymore. If they ever did…” He sniffed and drank his beer.

“The ones that were created last...in the second generation, I mean...like Castiel and a few others...they had it the worst, I think. ‘Cause they started off able to think and create and feel. And slowly learned that it was wrong. That they were...defective somehow. A couple of them eventually fought back against it. Openly rebelled. But they were caught and punished. Who knows how many times. I do know that being a part of that...participating in punishing those angels who tried to change things...it’s something that still haunts Castiel. He’s ashamed of himself for it. Feels tremendous guilt.”

Aneran sniffed. He was walking dangerously close to the edge of the ‘weepy’ cliff. Dean was fairly certain the 8 beers had a little something to do with that. Especially since the angel had had at least that many shots, earlier.

“But the seriously fucked up part about that...is that he only feels the guilt, when he once again has had to learn the hard way that having feelings or freely formed thoughts or doubts or questions is actually normal and ok. When he’s ‘in good standing’ in Heaven, he doesn’t remember any of that. So he usually falls back into that old, ‘duty-only’ pattern, and ends up participating in that messed up crap again! So then he’ll have even more guilt later, when he figures it all out again! And he WILL figure it out again! ‘Cause he’s smart and he has a huge heart and he loves Father’s Creation EXACTLY the way Father INTENDED us to love his Creation... And they JUST KEEP FUCKING ERASING EVERYTHING HE LEARNS! IT’S BULLSHIT!”

Aneran slammed his beer down on the table, and put the heels of his hands up to his eyes, rubbing them a bit. He sniffed loudly.

Dean took the opportunity to casually reach across the table and pull the beer away from him.

“Ooo-kay…” Dean said quietly. “Let’s start flushin’ you out, champ,” he said, slowly rising to fetch a large glass of water for the angel.

“I’m fine,” Aneran said through a half formed sob.

“Yeah, I know. It’s all good,” Dean soothed, as he got the glass and filled it. “I’m just cuttin’ ya off for a little bit. Not forever. It’ll be ok.”

He set the glass in front of the angel as he sat back down. He’d also brought a bowl full of Doritos and sat it on the table between them. He dug out a handful.

“Have a couple of these. They’re good,” he said, as he loudly crunched three chips at once. It had the intended effect. Aneran’s watery eyes appeared from beneath his hands and looked at Dean, the glass and then the bowl. Taking the cue from the loud crunching, he grabbed a couple of chips and shoved them clumsily into his mouth.

When Aneran began his attack on a second handful of chips, Dean started to laugh.

“What,” the angel asked, flatly.

“It’s like food turns you into the cartoon version of yourself,” Dean said with a big grin. He chuckled again.

Aneran looked at him a moment, and then slumped. He looked down at his shirt.

“Shit,” he mumbled. He looked back over a the man and pursed his lips. “You’ve got crumbs on your shirt, too,” he said, accusingly.

“I have…” Dean looked down at his shirt, “three crumbs on my shirt.” He looked back over at Aneran...and immediately began to laugh again. “You’re wearing way more than what you got into your mouth.”

Aneran glared at him, and then went about trying to remove the very large number of crumbs from his shirt. He got a few, but managed to dump most of the rest of them into the floor, while smearing some of the powdered flavoring deeply into the fabric of the shirt.

“Jesus,” Dean breathed. “It’s like watching a dog eat peanut butter.”

Aneran gave him the finger without looking up.

“Seriously...I think you got some in your hair,” Dean said dryly. “Which is a cool trick. You had to ‘ve kinda flicked up there. Ya got talent, kid.”

Aneran looked up, giving the man a long, disapproving stare...then went back to his wrecked shirt.

“You’ve been doin’ this a long time, right? The human vessel thing?” Dean asked. “How old are you, anyway?”

“About twenty million,” Aneran answered, without looking back up.

“YEARS?!” Dean boomed.

Aneran clicked his tongue, rolled his head and looked back at him blankly.

“No. Minutes,” he said sarcastically. “Yes, years!” He laughed and shook his head. “What I’m just gonna pick some random unit of measure all of a sudden? ‘I’m twenty million half-weeks old.’” He laughed again, looking at Dean incredulously. The man stared back, only partly registering the jab, as he continued to deal with the concept of sitting at a table talking to a twenty million year old angel.

“It’s a little hard to keep track over time spans that long,” Aneran continued, still grinning. “But...roughly twenty million...give or take ten or twenty thousand or so.”

“Holy shit…” Dean breathed. He wasn’t laughing at all anymore. Mainly because...holy shit!

“Wait,” Dean said, straightening in his chair and staring wide-eyed at the angel. “You’re a third generation angel.”

“Yes…” Aneran said slowly, squinting and watching Dean suspiciously.

“Cas is second generation,” Dean almost didn’t ask...but he had to know. “How old is he? Like...a lot older?”

Aneran chuckled sarcastically.

“Uh...yeah...you could say that.” He rolled his eyes and smirked.

Dean swallowed.

“How much older,” he asked in little more than a whisper.

Aneran looked up at him. Seeing the terrified look on the face of this less-than-four-decade-old creature, he gave up on the witty banter and smiled kindly.

“Well...for him it’s a very rough estimate. And I don’t know exactly when he was created, but...I do remember him telling me that he saw the first of the little fish to ever crawl out of the Earth’s oceans onto dry land. So...at minimum, he’s 400 million yrs old. I’d put him at half to three quarters of a billion years. But he could be older than that. Possibly much older.”

Dean just stared at him. There was very little else he could do after being given that information. It was kind of like being told that your dad isn’t just playing Santa Claus...He actually IS him. And even though it’s the most unlikely bullshit you’ve ever heard, you instantly know in your gut that it’s absolutely true. Dean would have swallowed, but he no longer had any spit.

“Relax,” Aneran chuckled. “It doesn’t change anything. We’re all exactly the same as we were one minute ago, when you didn’t know how old we are.”

“Half a billion years…” Dean whispered, not really listening anymore.

“Cas is half a billion years old!” he said again, a bit louder. “So...he was around when there were dinosaurs!” Dean said, more to himself than to his companion.

“Oh, he was around WAAAY before dinosaurs,” Aneran said, with a small flourish. He knew he was being horrible, but he loved watching humans try to absorb this information. It was fun every single time.

“Before flowering plants. Before the first trees… Before insects… You wouldn’t have recognized the Earth at all, when Castiel was created. It looked nothing like anything you’ve ever seen.”

Dean shook himself and got back into the groove of the conversation. He promised himself he could freak out more about this later, when he was alone and could curl into the fetal position and shake in peace. Right now, it was time to crack a joke.

“Yeah...well...nothin’ like you’ve ever seen either...you and your sad little twenty million years! How would you know what it looked like?” He fought back a grin and took a long, smug swig of his beer.

“I read!” Aneran said with mock-indignation. “And when an old geezer like Castiel tells me stuff, I listen.”

Dean laughed. Hard. This conversation was now completely ridiculous.

“Back in my day…” Aneran said, in his best rickety old man voice. He cracked up at his own joke.

“And I gotta tell ya…” Aneran continued, “Castiel can geezer with the best of ‘em, man. He is a pro! He knows a ton of info about a whole lotta shit that doesn’t matter at all anymore. But he is more than happy to tell you everything, if you ask. So...my advice?”

“Don’t ask!” he and Dean half-shouted at the same time. Their mostly-inebriated laughter rolled through the entire bunker.


	14. My Weird Exercise in Pretention - Divinity in the Creativity of Creation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what this is, really. It's a thing. 
> 
> This is basically my attempt at writing what I think an old-school angel might say, if he/she were trying to defend us to Lucifer's supporters, back before Lucifer officially fell and took a bunch of angels with him.
> 
> If you'd prefer to read something good, go read this: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6076

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up one morning thinking, "One of the angels should quote some old philosophical writing or debate to Cas, to make him remember why he fights so hard for humanity. To make him smile. Maybe it was something he actually wrote or said and doesn't remember. Or not. Doesn't matter."
> 
> I'm pretty sure it was in response to me having just read 'Fall' by rageprufrock. The author has Cas quoting Song of Songs(Solomon) to Dean while they're making love. And, o.m.g. It's perfect.  
> If you'd prefer to read something good, go read this: http://archiveofourown.org/works/6076
> 
> And then I thought...'Yeah, but for this, I don't wanna use the bible. It 'gets more wrong than it does right', so...'  
> Then I got up and started writing this. Which is crazy, 'cause I don't even read stuff like this and I've always marveled at people who do and who really dig it. 'cause I just...can't. So this is pretty awful. I'm sorry.  
> So, anyway...i got a wild hair and this happened.

A Collection of Excerpts from:

 The Reunification Debates: Apologies of the Seraphim-Sentient - ‘Divinity in the Creativity of Creation’

 

Though Divine Intent had commanded their development long ago,

   Were we not awed by their arrival?

Did we not marvel at the fulfilment of Promise? Of Prophecy?

Is there one among us whose task it was to observe a single human,

   And yet did not recognize in that simple creature the spark of Divinity?

   The familiar presence of our (Father)? Of (His/Her) awesome Intent?

Could an angel witness the nearly constant creativity, in both thought and choice,

   And yet remain unaware that (he/she) stood in the presence of God?

…

Creativity is Creation. And now Creation has itself begun to create!

...

We are arguing whether or not humankind merits our devotion, our love, even our worship,

   And for many, the thought is wholly unacceptable.

   ‘Our worship is for our (Father), alone!’ An eternal mantra. And so it should be!

But, can we claim worshipfulness without faith? Without acceptance of (His) direction?

Our Father has told us that humankind was created in (His) image. “In Our image,” in fact.

The meaning of ‘Our’ is moot: God alone; God and the Archangels; God and ALL angels;

(Perhaps it is a hint that an even greater mystery awaits revelation!)

But every possible meaning contains as it’s primary factor the name of God.

Therefore, humankind is made in the image of the Creator. This is not open for debate.

...

We worship our (Father) as our Creator.

We recognize (His) Creation as Divine

   As we have always done.

Yet, when the Creation itself begins to create, some among us hesitate to call it Divine.

Why?

From the beginning, our (Father), through (His) Intent, set in motion a creative force so powerful that it can now manifest it’s own creativity.

Creation became creative! Recursive Divinity! Who here has seen a greater miracle? I challenge you! Make your case!

The symmetry and continuity of this development should leave us in awe,

   Praising our Creator’s sagacious design!

Instead, we are here...endlessly bickering with one another over the value or acceptability of the chosen vehicle!

...

I propose that all creativity is Divine, be it the product of Holy Intent or the creation of the Created.

It holds tremendous value, no matter how seemingly small or insignificant.

I see some of you already balking at the idea. But I ask you… Must creativity meet some set standard or magnitude before it can be deemed Divine?

Are we so dull that we recognize the beauty and glory of a creation based solely upon its scale?

...

I ask you, (brothers/sisters)! I beg you! Watch these creatures, for even a short time, without preconception of their worth. They will prove themselves Divine! It is a certainty!

...

An elderly man, whittles a reed into a certain shape.

He breaths through one end, causing the air around it to vibrate. It is music!

He adorns the outside of the reed with symbols, shapes and colors. This has no bearing on the music. It simply makes his creation more beautiful. More unique.

He does not do this to fulfill base desires for food or shelter or reproduction, as some would have you believe is the _only_ thought in the mind of a human!

No, he does it because music is glorious!

Because the creativity itself fills his heart with joy.

Because it makes the children laugh and sing and dance.

Because human existence is as difficult as it is miraculous and the need for beauty and creativity and divinity will never diminish.

 

These creatures...these people... They are each of them a masterpiece of Creation.

   And equally a miracle of God.

Seeing them as anything less, speaks only of our own need to bolster our pride.

   To maintain our position of perceived superiority over the creatures that inhabit the lower physical dimensions.

...

Our (Father) has called us to a greater enlightenment through humankind.

Will we now ignore our Father’s call? Rebel against (Him), simply to preserve our position in some self-established, clearly erroneous hierarchy?

(Brothers/Sisters), we cannot be so foolish!

  


 


	15. How Ch. 22 of The Tether Almost Went

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT ***
> 
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
> So...here's the initial version of Chapter 22 of The Tether, before I completely threw it out and started over from scratch. I kinda liked the first half with Cas's perspective and I'll probably use at least some of that. The second half...nah. It sucked. And it was taking too long to recover it and I got bored and thought, 'ya know...let's see what happens if I just do something else entirely.'  
> And...there ya go.
> 
> Again, folks...here's how the sausage is made. I had no idea whether or not any of you would want to read this anyway, so instead of pitching the whole second half...here ya go. Please enjoy the terrible version that didn't make the cut! LOL

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** POSSIBLE SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT ***
> 
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
> I may use none of this, but then again, I may use some of it.  
> Probably some of the Cas perspective stuff.

*****SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT SPOILER ALERT *****  
'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!

 

 

The constant stream of sentence fragments and individual words was difficult for Cas to ignore, but he’d already managed to find a way to turn down the volume enough for it to blend in with the white noise of his own cognitive background. Only emotionally charged language could force its way through the filter, now.

The real challenge was coming from the massive visual cascade that poured out of Dean’s mind whenever the man began trying to piece together new information. Memories, flashes of faces, situations, conversations...most without any accompanying context that Cas could find.

Layered within the imagery was the information Dean’s visual cortex was currently receiving in real-time. Cas’s mind had to deal with what his own vessel’s eyes were seeing, plus the oddly echoed image of what Dean’s eyes were seeing. If both he and Dean were looking in the same direction, it wasn’t so bad. He would see the same image from two slightly different angles. But when Dean was looking elsewhere, processing both images simultaneously was proving extremely difficult, if not impossible.

Most of the non-real-time images emanating from Dean’s mind seemed unrelated to anything that had come before. It gave the impression of randomness, though Cas was certain that couldn’t be true. Very little about Dean Winchester had ever seemed to be in any way random. There was always a reason...for everything he did.

Some of the images would quickly shift to a clip from a film or cartoon, an elaborate illustration from a book of fairy tales or a science fiction novel, close-ups of technical drawings or machinery, a snippet from John’s journal...

Brief auditory memories also seemed to trigger an image - a lyric from a song would conjure a glimpse of a lovely field of wildflowers beside a road on a summer day or a view of the Rocky Mountains through the windshield of the Impala...

Most of the images were somewhat blurred, keeping focus on only one or two details, with the rest of the scene shrouded in a surreal and oddly colored haze. Then the focus would shift to another detail. Then another. Then the next image, paired with a seemingly random cultural or artistic reference.

The speed at which the imagery was being produced by Dean’s mind was incredible, and having yet to find a discernible pattern to fix upon, Cas realized the input was beginning to trigger motion sickness in his vessel.

He quickly sent a correcting pulse to the errant vagus nerve, and then to the vision and balance centers of his brain and inner ear. He did not want to vomit. Not only would it be an extremely embarrassing lapse of vessel control, especially in front of other angels, but there was a very good chance some of the foul liquid would end up on Dean. And that would be...less than optimal, considering the tension between the two of them, at the moment.

Also...Cas hated vomiting. He HATED it. He’d never experienced it before his time in his current vessel, but he was certain he’d have felt the same aversion, had it happened in any previous vessel he’d occupied.

He’d vomited blood from time to time, in quite a few vessels, including this one. It was simply a manifestation of damage to his true form. That damage had alway greatly overshadowed any response his vessel might be having, so the blood was never anything other than mildly irksome.

In his present vessel, though, he’d lived without his grace. He’d gotten ‘sick,’ and he’d vomited food...followed by the horrid, burning bile produced in an already emptied, but still heaving stomach.

The time he’d spent effectively human had forced him to learn many things. The fact that most of the food thrown into dumpsters behind grocery stores and restaurants is perfectly edible, for example, had seemed like a very pleasant discovery, at first. Until he realized some of the food had been discarded for a very good reason. A couple of poorly chosen dumpster meals had taught him just how quickly the focus of one’s life can be altered...along with one’s level of desire to continue living at all.

His rational mind understood that it wasn’t the vomiting that he now dreaded (nor what happens at the other end of the digestive tract.) It was the rapid dehydration that would follow his vessels urgent attempts to purge itself of a dangerous poison. But the emotional association had been made and he was now stuck with it.

Dean’s mental barrage was still in high-gear, but Cas was seeing something else, now...a secondary layer, containing a small subset of the images he’d previously seen flash by. This layer looked like a fragmented collage - half formed images that seemed to be slowly resolving into something entirely new. But there were large sections missing.

As the new images flashed by, a small number of them would pop onto the secondary layer, filling a small gap in the partially formed image, usually making it warp into something slightly different.

Some images seemed to be set aside, held with a group of other possible puzzle pieces that might fit after more of the image had been filled in.

The vast amount of input was nearly paralyzing. Even what Cas had seen moments ago in Vanya’s memory...and the alarming implications of that information...had been overshadowed by the blur of high-definition thoughts and images coming from Dean.

Now that a pattern was beginning to form, though... something his mind could latch onto...Cas felt less overwhelmed by the bombardment. Instead, he was fascinated by it. He was eager to see the evolving new structure completed.

The input abruptly halted on a real-time image of himself, viewed from the side. He felt a hard squeeze on his right hand and vaguely realized he could hear Dean speaking to him.

He’d closed his eyes again, at some point. He didn’t remember doing it. But, as he tried to open them, a strong punch of emotion radiated out of Dean and Cas’s entire body clenched, including his eyes.

Even though he now knew his friend was talking to him, and he needed to listen and respond, he couldn’t. The images were back to the same blazing pace as before, but they had changed and the accompanying emotions were impossible to ignore.  
  
Worry. Frustration. Pain. Remorse.

The secondary pattern Cas had been watching so eagerly, disappeared. In it’s place was a vivid image of himself lying on the floor of the dungeon...moaning and fading away. The image flickered, and he was on the floor of the library. Wreckage was all around him. His face was badly damaged and streaked with blood, and his own blue eyes were staring back at him. He was clutching the arm that had him pinned down...not fighting, just...trying to connect.

He was shocked by the image. He hadn’t known his face could convey that much emotion. He’d always been teased for his lack of expression. But the look on his face in this memory… The look in his eyes...

Now he was staring at himself from a across a room. The remembered version of himself was motionless, surrounded by a ring of flames. And again...his eyes… The depth and intensity of emotion his image was conveying easily matched the levels radiating out of Dean.

He saw himself sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala. Then he was gone.

Sitting on the edge of a bed. Then gone.

In Lucifer’s crypt...the angel tablet in his hand...staring back with the same heart-broken expression. Gone.  
On a park bench. Gone.   
In a motel room. Gone.  
At the library table, his face twisted in pain. Gone.

Now Dean was remembering running rapidly through a field and coming to the edge of a creek, scanning everywhere, searching…   
Then the field was almost pitch black, but he was still running. He could just barely make out the vague image of Sam ahead of him, also running…

Cas saw his own room in the bunker. It was empty.   
The library. Empty.   
A little stack of notebooks on the table.   
His hide-out in the boiler room.   
His old trench coat, balled up in the trunk of the Impala...

Fear. Raw, unfiltered, gut-twisting dread. Cas clenched both hands, grabbing onto Dean and to the island counter top for support.

Dean’s anger had been a constant bombardment, since the moment they’d joined hands. It was very unpleasant for Cas, and it had taken him a few moments to work out how to deal with it, but he could bear it, now.

But Dean’s fear...that would not be handled by a quick adjustment. It was vastly more powerful than any other thought or emotion Cas had yet received from him. It slammed into the angel from every angle - the bond, the tether and even prayer.   
Cas’s protective instincts came online almost instantly. The resulting impulse to defend his charge cleared his mind entirely, leaving only the urgent imperative to identify and destroy any threat.  
  
His eyes shot open and he took in every detail in the room in a split second. He opened his right hand, preparing to catch his blade, if needed.

But, he stopped. And squinted. There didn’t seem to be any...danger…so…

His companions were looking at him. Cas’s brow furrowed.

“CAS!” Dean boomed from about a foot away from Cas’s ear. The anger was back, pushing aside some of the fear.

Cas turned to look at him, and immediately regretted it. He saw Dean’s face with his vessel’s eyes, but he was also seeing his own face through Dean’s eyes. The two images were simultaneous, but Dean’s version was much more intense.

It was extremely disorienting. He squeezed his eyes shut again, to block out the second input.

*****************************************************

*****(HERE'S WHERE I GAVE UP ON THIS VERSION OF THE CHAPTER - EVERYTHING BELOW THIS POINT MADE ME ASK 'DOES THIS SUCK?' I FINALLY GAVE UP AND DECIDED THAT 'YES, IT PROBABLY SUCKS.' AND STARTED OVER. SO MUCH FOR QUICK POSTINGS.) *****

 

Aneran realized what was happening and quickly moved toward the two of them, reaching instinctively toward Castiel as he approached. He seemed to be anticipating the seraph losing his balance and falling.

“Dean, you have to calm down,” he said, as he took hold of Cas’s arm.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Dean asked Cas, ignoring Aneran. He was looking intently at his friend, standing directly in front of him. He reached up with his free hand to grab the side of Cas’s neck and head, trying to get him to open his eyes or respond or...something. Anything!

“Cas!” Dean shouted. Then turned to Aneran. “I thought you both said there was no damage?”

“There isn’t, he’s…”

“CAS!” Dean yelled and gave him a very light shake. “Come on! Open your eyes!”

Sam was now by their side. He, also, had taken hold of Cas’s arm to support him in case he fell. The way Cas looked, a fall seemed very likely.

“You sure you didn’t miss something?” Sam asked Aneran without taking his eyes off his friend.

“I’m sure. He...”

“Come on, Cas! Dammit! Don’t do this! Look at me!” Dean was about two seconds away from starting head-injury triage. He was well aware of the fact that he had no idea how to treat brain damage. And he certainly didn’t know what to do about ‘true-form’ damage in a seraph. He did knew what you should and shouldn’t do for a concussion or swelling of any kind in a human, though...and that’s what he was gonna go with.

Sam appeared to be right there with him, readying to get Cas laid out on the floor. Mary was already heading for the stack of clean kitchen towels in the cabinet.

“You have to calm down!” Aneran demanded, a little more forcefully.

Dean looked over at the angel, having finally registered what he’d said.

“‘Calm down?!’” Dean barked, fighting back the impulse to knock Aneran across the room. “If that’s all you got right now, shut the hell up!”

“I’m telling you what’s wrong with him!” Aneran continued. He realized he wasn’t getting anywhere with either of them, so he stopped being polite.

“Listen to me!” Aneran yelled. He was shockingly loud. It got everyone’s attention.

Dean stared at him. He was still ready to swing, if the angel didn’t offer something useful, but he was listening, now.

“You have to calm down,” Aneran repeated. “You are literally screaming your thoughts into his mind, right now. He can’t think. Yelling at him with your voice, too, won’t help. If you want him to have any chance of responding, you have to dial your emotions almost all the way back. At least until he learns how to turn down the volume on his side.”

Dean was still staring at him, absorbing what he was saying. It sounded ridiculous, though, and he was tempted to assume the angel was wrong. Emotions were just...emotions! They couldn’t shut somebody off like this.More importantly, Cas had just been tortured within an inch of his life! If he was now showing symptoms of some kind of ‘absence seizure’...it had to be an injury.

“Please,” Aneran followed up, seeing the hesitation in both men. “I swear, I know what I’m talking about. Tethering can be really tough. Especially the emotional shock. And with a bond as strong as the one he has with you… It’s a wonder he’s been able to think or speak at all.”

He gave Dean a moment, before he continued.

“Look… You don’t know me. I get that it’s hard to just trust me, but...ya gotta. Seriously, Dean. He’s ok. This is just…”

“Dean,” Cas mumbled. He opened his eyes halfway.

“Cas?!” Dean asked, turning his full focus immediately back to his friend. His intensity shot back up and Cas’s eyes squeezed shut.

Dean’s repeated attempts to get him to speak again failed.

“Dean, he’s right,” Sam said quietly. “I’ve been watching him. He only talks or makes eye contact with anyone when you’re focused on something else. When you get amped up, he kinda…” He trailed off for a second, trying to think of the right description, and eventually just settling on gesturing at Cas.

“Does...what he’s doing right now,” Sam finished. Dean was looking between him and Cas like he still wasn’t entirely sold. Mary was standing on the other side of the island, watching them. Dean looked over at her, but she just shrugged. She really couldn’t tell if that was right either.

“Think about what just happened,” Sam said. “Aneran had your attention for a sec, so you started focusing on what he was saying. You had something else to think about. Cas opened his eyes and spoke. Then you focused on him and got all worried again, right?”

Dean sighed sharply in frustration and shook his head.

“What, I’m supposed to just...not feel anything?! How the hell do I do that?!”

“I dunno,” Sam complained, suddenly aware he had no idea how to do that either. “Try focusing on something else.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” Sam stammered, then blew out a big breath. “Try...saying the alphabet backwards!”

“Not that...” Mary said, wincing. “That’s a stressful pain in the ass when you’re not freaking out.”

“I heard it’s supposed to snow later today,” Aneran said, looking between Dean and Sam. He seemed completely at ease, as though this were a totally normal thing to have said right now.

“But the tractor’s fixed, so it won’t be a problem.” Aneran grinned and nodded.

Dean stared at him. His brow furrowed and he was twisting his mouth a little as his mind tried to come up with some context for what the angel had just said.

“Listen to him,” Cas managed to blurt out, though his voice was very quiet.

Dean’s gaze snapped back to his friend and he was able to catch just a flicker of Cas’s eyes before the lids slammed shut again.

He looked back at Aneran. And the penny dropped. The confusion and frustration fell away when he realized what the angel had just done. But worry and frustration immediately filled him again because he now knew what he was going to have to do. It seemed...impossible. Aneran may as well have told him he had to build a nuclear reactor out of a washtub and some duct tape...before dinner tonight...

“Shit,” Dean breathed. “I don’t…” he started, but gave up.

“Yeah, ya do,” Aneran said reassuringly. He grinned at Dean kindly and nodded. “A few deep breaths...it’ll happen on it’s own.”

Dean sighed. He closed his eyes and made himself breath slowly and deeply. He continued for several more breaths until he was able to feel his body start to relax a bit. It wasn’t much, and his mind was still filled with worry and doubt and a thousand questions...but it was a start.

He opened one eye to peek at Cas, but those eyes were still squeezed tightly shut. Dean’s frustration began to peek again.

“Ya know...if you can’t on your own, I’ll have no choice but to start telling jokes,” Aneran warned.

Vanya sighed heavily from a few paces behind Aneran.

“You DON’T want him to do that.” His face was very serious.

A moment later, Dean cracked a tiny grin.

“Of course, I could just keep saying completely random crap until you laugh at something.”

“I vote for that,” Vanya raised his hand. “Trust me...you do NOT want the jokes.”

Dean’s grin got just a little bigger, but it wasn’t nearly enough to calm him. Cas was still balled up inside his own mind.

“Ok...random it is,” Aneran announced with a soft pound on the counter top.

“Sometimes, when I get really nervous,” Sam interrupted. He looked at Dean with a completely blank face. “I put my hands in my armpits. And then I smell them.” He acted out the last part, ending with his fingertips under his nose...mainly to cover the fact that he was cracking.

Dean held it for less than two seconds.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked.

Sam started giggling furiously.

“That shit’s not even funny,” Dean insisted, while a smile slowly spread across his face.

“Wow,” Vanya said with a snort.

Aneran was smiling ear to ear.

“That’s really disgusting,” Mary said through her own giggling. “Please tell me you’re quoting something.”

Sam’s giggles increased. He was going to have to explain so much to his mom. And now he’d have to explain this stupid crap, too.

“There are a number of pheromones released through the skin in that area of your anatomy. Perhaps that’s what you’re finding soothing.”

Dean looked at his friend, and then finally huffed out a short laugh.

“There he is,” he grinned, giving the angel a quick pat on the side of his neck, before letting his hand fall away. He sighed.

Cas’s face still looked like he was having tremendous difficulty concentrating, but he was clearly awake and alert. That was enough for Dean. He relaxed further. Cas’s face reflected the change.

 


	16. The Details of Vanya's Solo Time Travel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little detail summary I scratched out to keep track of what Vanya would have needed to do, in order to actually observe an object 3 light days away from Earth, at the time Cas was first suffering in the dungeon.
> 
> Time travel always makes my head hurt.

Instead of dragging his vessel along for the dangerous trip, Vanya dropped Malik back off at his home, to wait for Vanya to return.   
Vanya was gone a little under an hour, from Malik’s perspective. 

At 3 light days away, Vanya, traveling at 60K km/sec, would have been in transit about 15 days. 

Vanya then would have time traveled back 15+ days to allow himself to recharge in Heaven and then to observe the object in the position it was in at the moment Cas was in the dungeon. 

(Aneran is pissed at him for going to Heaven to recharge. They aren't exactly welcome and it was a huge risk. He’ll ask why Vanya didn’t just recover in place and then return to Earth and time travel back. It would only have taken a couple of months longer. But it still wasn’t a good idea at all, which is why he should never have been alone!)

Fully charged after visiting Heaven, he made the 15 day journey back to Earth, then time traveled back 35 days. He spent 20 days in Antarctica, recovering, then went back to pick up Malik and returned to the bunker, an hour after he’d left. He did this to avoid crossing his own path, not to try and cover his tracks.

My head canon for this is that angels can slowly recharge while in space, if they are in their true form and don't have to maintain a habitable bubble for their vessel or constantly heal their vessel (which takes a lot of power.) But, they can recharge much faster if they're on Earth. Also, returning to Heaven would allow them to recharge almost immediately. A few hours, at the most.


	17. Harrowing Hell - Aneran and Cas tell Dean the story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
>  
> 
> Aneran describes how he and his team assisted Cas during the harrowing of Hell to retrieve Dean's soul. This is the first discussion of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
> This scene fragment may or may not make it into that fic.  
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!
> 
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea. A lot of it sucks. Dialog is bad or OOC. Totally and completely un-beta'd...even by me, for the most part. Most of this will be re-written, before being included anywhere.

***** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! *****

IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS!

 

 

  
“Castiel put out the call for reinforcements...3 days? Was that right? Three days in?”

  
Cas squinted, trying to piece together the memory. Then he nodded. “Yes. Then, at the end of the sixth week, after numerous requests, with no...useful response from Heaven, I sent out a broad distress call.”

“That’s when we responded. Me and my team. We volunteered.” Aneran paused and squinched up his face. “Well...not really volunteered, actually. We didn’t bother asking anyone. We just... showed up. Once we caught up to Castiel, we took over the defense of his team’s flank.”

“It was enough to allow for us to regroup and launch a forward surge,” Cas added. “We made enormous progress in a matter of days. Still not close enough to your location, but...we were no longer mired in an all-sides battle. Up until Aneran arrived, the pace had been excruciatingly slow.” Cas sighed. “Of course, it makes more sense, now...why my orders were to take such a small team with me. Why they refused to send in reinforcements. They wanted the delay.” He eyed his beer morosely. “So many little clues...” he mumbled.

Dean was watching him...partly to focus on the story, but mainly because the memories were flooding back in like flashes of lightening and loud pops of feedback from a stadium sound system and he needed to focus on something solid. Something that HAD to be real. Because, what if this was all a trick? What if Alistair had orchestrated all of this? To give him hope so he could snatch it away? That was Alistair’s favorite torture, after all. He loved to pull away the veil and watch Dean cry when reality set back in.

‘ _Don’t be stupid!_ ’ he barked at himself. ‘ _He didn't make up eight fucking years of the craziest bullshit ever! It would have been good times, or at least just crappy times...not the freakin’ apocalypse!_ ’

But, he could still hear the mocking laugh. It had been getting softer as time went on. Occasionally, though, he’d hear someone scream when they were on a job, or even just someone crying in a movie…and there it would be, bubbling up in the background until his guts were quivering and he could barely breathe. ‘ _Welcome back, Deeeeean!_ ’ the slimy voice would hiss. ‘ _Did ya miss me?_ ’

Dean felt a tight squeeze on his hand.

 

_(fill in more of scene here)_

 

But...if he were still in Hell, and just imagining that he was here right now, in the bunker, listening to two angels tell the story of his rescue...he wouldn’t know Castiel. They would never have met. And sure, maybe his mind was just creating a face and a name, and everything else that happened in the last 8 years, to trick him into believing this is real, but...no. Cas was real. Dean could count on that. And, right now, as the waves of doubt and fear attacked his mind, it was very reassuring to have the one who’d saved him, sitting so close. It was even more comforting to know that, if somehow he ended up in Hell again, it wouldn’t be forever. He just had to hold on, because...Cas would be coming for him. Cas would get him out. 

 

_(fill in more of scene here)_

 

“It took us almost two weeks just to reach Castiel,” Aneran jumped in, trying to keep his friend from spiraling. “Hell had been planning its defense strategy since the night you made the deal. They had the advantage of a full year to prepare. So, they were ready for the initial strike, and, when they overheard the SOS, they threw everything they had at the entrance to prevent reinforcements from making it through.” Aneran shook his head at the memory. “When I first saw them...it actually took me a few seconds to understand what I was seeing. I thought that for some reason, there must not have been any light in that area just past the entrance. Maybe it was a tunnel or something? A dark cloud of smoke and ash? But then, I realized the ‘dark’ was kinda...moving. Squirming, somehow. And that’s when it dawned on me. We were looking at a solid wall of demons. All crammed next to each other, as far as we could see in any direction with only tiny, little scraps of human soul still left in some of them to give any kind of texture to the blackness. It was…” he paused for a moment, trying to come up with the right word. “...somethin’ I’ll never forget,” he finished, giving up on any further description.

 

_(fill in more of scene here)_

 

  
“We held back the swarm...cut a path for Castiel to use to fly you out directly, instead of standard guard formation. He went alone, and we killed anything that got near him.” Aneran took another quick swig of his beer. “Which wasn’t easy. The two of you were seriously movin’.

“I only saw you for a second, as Castiel flew past. You were both at a bit of a distance, but...it was a fantastic sight,” Aneran said with a fond smile. “I know for a fact he isn’t exaggerating about how bright your soul was. Brightest thing there, by far, other than us. And, honestly, you had most of us beat in that category, too. Pretty impressive. Made you and Castiel an incredibly easy target, though.

 


	18. An Hour and Sixteen Minutes Left

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
>  
> 
> The final pull looks inevitable. Dean is desperate and taking it out on Aneran, demanding the angel do something to save Cas.
> 
> Also, and outline of the 'aftermath' scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
> This scene fragment may or may not make it into that fic.
> 
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!  
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea. A lot of it sucks. Dialog is bad or OOC. Totally and completely un-beta'd...even by me, for the most part. Most of this will be re-written, before being included anywhere.

***** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! *****

IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS!

 

 

*** At the bunker. In the library/war room. Aneran is speaking first. Dean is yelling at him. Things have gotten very dire and everyone has been scrambling, but it’s clear the worst may actually happen.***

 

“Dean...stop! Listen to him! We’ve got this. Let us do our job!”

“I’m supposed to just stand here?! And what...watch you and the Seven Stooges screw around on a chalkboard?!”

“Dean…” Cas tried to stop him.

“Dude...seriously...Southern Argentina,” Tazar warned. _*** (Don’t worry, reader. This is a reference to something I haven’t written yet. It’s not gonna make sense right now.)***_

“There’s no way I’m gonna do nothing! Now...you tell me...how we stop this? You tell me _right now_! I don’t care how crazy...or impossible or whatever bullshit excuse you wanna put out there! YOU TELL ME HOW WE KEEP HIM HERE!”

“We don’t know how…”

“That’s crap! There’s always a way! Always something! And you fuckin’ angels...with your ‘you don’t need to know’ or ‘that’s just not how it’s done’...you’re full’a shit! All’a ya! You’ve been here two weeks! How can you not know something we could be doin'?!”

Aneran sighed and lowered his head. He knew that this outburst had nothing to do with him. It was panic...pure and simple. And he had no intention of continuing to ramp the poor guy up.

“Dean, I’m...” Aneran began, very gently.

“Whaddya want, huh?” Dean asked. His voice was bouncing rapidly between shouting and pleading. “You want me to beg? You want me to...pledge fidelity to your little unit? Or to Heaven? Fine! I’ll do it! Here…” He fished his keys out of his pocket and shoved them into Aneran’s chest. “You want my car? Take her! She’s yours! Hell...use me as a spare vessel! YES! OK?! YES! For WHENEVER! Just TELL ME…”

Dean stopped. Cas had moved his forearm around in the binding sleeve and was now holding his hand. When Dean had shoved the keys at Aneran, Cas had squeezed, and when that didn’t work, he reached with his other hand and closed it over the back of Dean’s.

“We’re gonna get him back, Dean. I swear on my life, we will. And I promise you, if I knew how to prevent him from going there in the first place, I’d be all over it. We’re close. Really close, and getting closer. But unless something huge happens in the next hour and sixteen minutes...”

“Please,” Dean interrupted.

Aneran looked at him for a moment, trying to think of anything else he could say to try to comfort him even a tiny amount, but there was nothing. He glanced over at Castiel.

 

*******************************************

 

_OUTLINE OF FOLLOWING SCENE (in the aftermath)_

Dean watched the clock on the wall, as the countdown to the final ‘pull’ commenced.

They listened to Cas as he talked them through being held in the pull-to spot and seeing the entrance to the wormhole approaching and saying goodbye to Aneran (who was a distance away, watching as this happened).

After Cas was pulled into the prison cell and knocked out...there was silence in the library and war room. Aneran returned, very somber. Everyone stood silently for a few minutes.

Dean heard the clock ticking and lost it. He picked up a library chair and smashed it into the clock face. When the chair broke, he took one of the legs and continued to beat the clock until it was completely destroyed.


	19. It's difficult for me. Everything. Here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
> Dean apologizes for his irritation with Cas when the angel doesn't know something.  
> Cas tells Dean how hard it's been for him to live among humans. How he sees his future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!  
> This scene fragment may or may not make it into that fic.  
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!  
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea. A lot of it sucks. Dialog is bad or OOC. Totally and completely un-beta'd...even by me, for the most part. Most of this will be re-written, before being included anywhere.

***** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! *****

IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS!

 

 

“You’re right,” Dean said quietly. There was a long pause again, before he continued. “And that’s really shitty of me. I’m sorry, Cas.”

Cas looked up. He squinted just slightly as he watched his friend.

“I can’t say I’ll never do that again, ‘cause I know me, but...I’ll try. Ok?”

Once again, Cas simply nodded and they went back to _(something)_. Another minute or so passed, and Cas spoke again.

“It’s difficult for me.”

“What is?”

“Everything. Here.”

Dean considered that for a moment.

“Hasn’t gotten any easier? I thought...that time you spent as a human helped you learn how to do...you know...human stuff? And the whole...'cultural references' thing you got from Metatron?”

Cas grinned and shook his head.

“At first, I thought I could learn. I thought I could imitate well enough to get by, when I needed to. And yes, I’ve learned quite a bit.”

“Yeah, ya have,” Dean said emphatically.

Cas’s grin got a bit bigger.

“But there was always the understanding that I’d eventually go home. Or that I’d die very soon. Even after I lost my grace, that time I spent struggling to survive as a human...for whatever reason, there was always a small part of me that knew I would be myself again. That I wouldn’t spend a few decades struggling to survive as a human, and then die in my mortal vessel. Perhaps it was just hope. Or denial. Both, maybe. Luckily, it ended up being true.”

“So, while it was important that I learn the human skills needed to accomplish a task, those skills always seemed academic. I never allowed myself to accept the possibility that a time might come that I’d need to live among humans long-term. Or...forever, actually...as seems to be the case, now.”

Cas’s grin was holding, but the rest of his face didn’t follow.

 


	20. Quotes/Inner Thoughts/Monologues - Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
>  
> 
> This is a collection of Dialog or Inner Thoughts that I came up with for Dean. As one might imagine, there's a good deal of cursing and snark. Some of this is sorta intended for a scene. Probably in 'The Tether'. Some of it is slightly random. It's stuff I came up with while writing other stuff and I liked it, so I wanted to keep it to use later.
> 
> This is incredibly disjointed. It is NOT SUPPOSED TO FLOW! Like...AT ALL! LOL So don't worry. It's not you. It's me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!  
> These selections of dialog or inner thoughts may or may not make it into that fic.
> 
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!
> 
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea.

*** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***

 

IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS! THERE MAY OR MAY NOT BE SPOILERS IN HERE!

 

* * *

“That’s great, Cas! So, when you snap awake, stuck in outer space, you’ll be totally aware of just how fucked you are! Hell, for a second there, I was worried!”

 

 

* * *

_***(Inner Monologue)***_

_'Fuckin’ martyr bullshit!’ - ‘You got no problem tellin’ me all about how fuckin’ monkeys eat! And why Foghat must be an Indian band! But it’s way too god damned MUCH to tell me what the FUCK is goin’ on!’ - ‘I can’t HELP if I don’t KNOW! How many times do I have to… Son of a Bitch, you KNOW THAT!’ - ‘GOD DAMMIT, CAS!’_

 

* * *

_***(Inner Monologue)***_

_‘Just because I’m doin’ everything I can to help you...that can’t possibly mean anything! Clearly I don’t give a damn! I mean...all I did was bust my ass tryin’ to get to you when you fell out of the god damned sky, over and over! Read every boring-ass book in that whole fuckin’ library! Oh yeah! And defended you...freakin’ SIDED with you...against my MOM! MY MOM, you DICK! And I VOLUNTEERED to be TETHERED to your stupid ass for the duration! What the fuck do I have to do, you crazy son of a bitch?!’_

 

* * *

_***(Inner Monologue)***_

_‘He’s doin’ it on purpose. Plannin’ on leavin’ the whole fuckin’ time! Everybody else does! They ALL LEAVE! He’s just stallin’ for time for...some reason...I don’t know why he’d... FUCK IT! Fuck HIM! I don’t even care ‘why!’ You wanna leave, Cas? GO! DO IT! Nothin’s ever stopped ya before!’_

 

* * *

“I don’t think there’s any punishment or penance that Heaven could possibly come up with that would be any worse than the constant ass-kicking you give yourself inside your own head...or true-form or...wherever it is that you actually...ya know...think. I don’t know how that works.”

 

* * *

“All these years, dealing with the worst lowlifes in the freakin universe...NEVER have I heard a bigger load of horse shit than what just came out of your mouth!”

 

* * *

“Do you even listen, when I tell you shit? What the fuck part of ‘please, don’t leave’ or ‘you’re important to me’ don’t you get?!”

 

* * *

“ _One prayer_ , Cas! Sam said _one prayer_ , and _EIGHT_ angels dropped everything and came to help you. How messed up is your head that you can possibly still translate that into, ‘I’m a worthless piece of shit and everyone is better off without me?’ How does that happen? Are you still nuts? Is that what you’re tryin’ to tell me? That Purgatory didn’t really fix you and you’ve been slippin’ out to go...commune with the bees?! ‘Cause honestly, Cas...that’s the kinda thing I really need to know!”

 

* * *

“You know...Sam has been ridin’ my ass for YEARS to get me to talk about...feelings and all that crap! And I push back! Ya wanna know why?! ‘Cause of this! Right here! I can tell you exactly what I’m ‘feeling’...’bare my soul’ like a total jackass and you know what’ll happen? Nothing! Not a damned thing! You’ll still think what you’re gonna think! And I’ll just be standing here wondering why the fuck I even bother!”

 

* * *

***(Snippet)***

It wasn’t fair. It sucked away nearly all his anger. And he had every right to be angry! Cas was once again pulling the same secretive bullshit he’d just blown up at him about less than twelve hours ago! The same crap that had caused what seemed like a never-ending avalanche of problems for all of them, so many times!

Just two seconds ago, he’d been justifiably furious with the guy. Ready to lay into him the moment he had a chance. But now...he just wanted to hand him a beer and watch a rerun of this year’s ‘Puppy Bowl’ with him. He’d missed it last January.

_‘You could shove him in the corner with a TV, but ya couldn’t let him see the one show that actually might’a made him happy for a couple hours, could ya, Lucifer?! You fuckin' prick!’_

Hell, he’d even consider hugging him again, if it’d make that look on his face go away. It was awful!

And then it did go away...replaced by a look of complete confusion.

 

* * *


	21. Quotes/Inner Thoughts/Monologues - Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
>  
> 
> This is a collection of Dialog or Inner Thoughts that I came up with for Sam. Some of this is sorta intended for a scene. Probably in 'The Tether'. Some of it is slightly random. It's stuff I came up with while writing other stuff and I liked it, so I wanted to keep it to use later.
> 
> This is incredibly disjointed. It is NOT SUPPOSED TO FLOW! Like...AT ALL! LOL So don't worry. It's not you. It's me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!  
> These selections of dialog or inner thoughts may or may not make it into that fic.
> 
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!
> 
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea.

*** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***

 

IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS! THERE MAY OR MAY NOT BE SPOILERS IN HERE!

 

* * *

“A few tears? This is nothin’, Cas. Actually, it’s about time you cried. Until the other night, I honestly wondered if angels ever cry at all.”

"I mean, seriously...how do you go through the shit you’ve been through and only have one bender? That’s just… " Sam trailed off and shook his head. "And ya know...that bender was... That barely even counted, Cas. Seriously. I mean...the whole point of a bender is that you're supposed to get drunk and stay drunk and make tons of extremely bad decisions. You're supposed to fuck up, like, _really_ bad. So, really you can't call it a bender if you just drink a lot and then come back to our motel room and help us figure out how to save a whole town full of people. That’s, like... "  
"Look...if Dean or I had just found out that everything we’d believed and devoted our lives to…everything we’ve fought and bled and killed for...all of it was a lie? We hadn't needed to do any of it? I promise you, Cas, _that_ bender would have been epic. Fucking _legendary_! I mean...zero redeeming acts. From either of us. Just an endless stream of 'nope.' The stuff of campfire horror stories for generations to come.”

 

* * *

“Ya know...Cas I think Chuck might have kept bringin’ you back, because you loved what he created as much as he did...or does. Who knows what he’s doin’ or what he wants now. But I really think that might have been the reason.”

 

* * *


	22. Quotes/Inner Thoughts/Monologues - Aneran (or other angel)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
>  
> 
> This is a collection of Dialog or Inner Thoughts that I came up with for Aneran (or possibly another angel.) Some of this is sorta intended for a scene. Probably in 'The Tether'. Some of it is slightly random. It's stuff I came up with while writing other stuff and I liked it, so I wanted to keep it to use later.
> 
> This is incredibly disjointed. It is NOT SUPPOSED TO FLOW! Like...AT ALL! LOL So don't worry. It's not you. It's me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!  
> These selections of dialog or inner thoughts may or may not make it into that fic.
> 
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!
> 
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea.

*** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***

IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS! THERE MAY OR MAY NOT BE SPOILERS IN HERE!

 

 

* * *

“There are the more rare cases, when a person’s illness or injury is more complex than I can heal outright. Mike’s sister, for example. She inherited the gene for Huntington’s, as did one of her children. A defect like that requires a partial rebuild. Literally every cell in the body needs the change. I couldn't just touch her forehead and make that go away. I don't have that kinda juice. So, I stayed with her for a year and a half. That allowed me to make those changes from the inside, a little at a time. I had to leave and come back a couple of times, but...afterward...the disease was gone entirely. And she barely noticed when I was there. I just...hung out. And lately, I’ve been staying with her eight year old daughter. I’ve just started with her, but the process should go a bit more quickly, since she’s so young.”

 

* * *

“Sir...I’m an angel, and I didn’t understand what you just said!”

(fill in here)

“It depends on what you were going for, Sir. I think if you were trying to help these folks understand the nature of an angel’s true form, then...no. You didn’t succeed. At all. But, if what you were actually doing was trying to describe what happens when you put a thesaurus in a blender, then, yeah...i’d say you nailed it.”

A single loud huff of laughter came from the war room.

 

* * *

“I’ll take English-in-a-Cuisinart for a thousand, Alex.”

 

* * *

“Common words. Are they as precise? No! Does it matter in a loose approximation or an analogy? It does not!”

 

* * *

“Come on, man...you know damn well Bones, Uhura, Scotty, Sulu and Chekov can do a fine job, in a pinch.”

“Yeah? So, who’re you supposed to be?”

“I'll be Uhura,” Aneran said with a playful grin. “I had a vessel for a while in the sixties that looked and dressed a lot like her, so I’m partial. Though I will never again take a vessel with long fingernails. Damn, that was inconvenient! She wouldn’t let me cut ‘em, either. Had to completely relearn how to use human hands. It...sucked!”

 

* * *

“‘It just comes out?’ Seriously?! Being a condescending asshole is some sort of nervous tic?”

“Don’t antagonize Castiel’s charges. Ok? Just...play nice. Please. For _me_.”

 

* * *


	23. Quotes/Inner Thoughts/Monologues - Castiel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
>  
> 
> This is a collection of Dialog or Inner Thoughts that I came up with for Castiel. Some of this is sorta intended for a scene. Probably in 'The Tether'. Some of it is slightly random. It's stuff I came up with while writing other stuff and I liked it, so I wanted to keep it to use later.
> 
> This is incredibly disjointed. It is NOT SUPPOSED TO FLOW! Like...AT ALL! LOL So don't worry. It's not you. It's me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!  
> These selections of dialog or inner thoughts may or may not make it into that fic.
> 
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!
> 
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea.

***** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! *****

 IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS! THERE MAY OR MAY NOT BE SPOILERS IN HERE!

 

 

* * *

“I used to be...good. Honorable. I had the trust and respect of my brothers and sisters. Of those who served beside me or under my command. Most of them...they see me on the same level as Lucifer, now. I fell. And then I attacked them. Twice. Did profound damage. They no longer see any difference. I am hated. Hunted. I’ve lost...everything. And the thought of losing Dean and Sam, ...I would much rather die, than lose them, too. Except I can’t. Because they’re my charges. And I’d still need to do my best to protect them. For the rest of their lives. Even if they decide they don’t want me around. I cannot let go of that responsibility. It would destroy the very little that is left of...me. But, more importantly...I’d never abandon them because I love them. Far too much to not try to help them in any way I can.”

 

* * *

“Right now...there’s nothing to fight. No identified enemy. No course of action. It’s just...waiting. Wondering when the next blow will come. I have time to really think. And that’s...not very good, actually.”

 

 

* * *

***(List of Music I want Cas to play for Dean, during their time tethered. They’ll also listen to at least some of it out in the bunker with everyone. Also Sprach Zarathustra will be with everyone.)***

****  
Also Sprach Zarathustra (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nlcKeAaNsMA  
The whole thing is fantastic. Seriously. Listen to it sometime.  
But for now, if you want to hear the section Cas asks them to listen to, start at 4:15 and play through 4:50.  
PS: Everyone will recognize the first 1:45 of this piece.)

Mozart - Ave Verum  
Beethoven - 6th (‘Pastoral’) and 9th (‘Ode to Joy’)  
Rimsky-Korsakov - Sheherazade (3rd Movement)  
Chopin - (pick one. It’s all good.)  
Debussey - Claire de Lune, Prelude a l’apres midi d’un faun  
******

  
Cas stopped them with a raised hand, motioning for them to listen. The second movement of Also Sprach Zarathustra was slowly filling the cavernous war room, building in volume, intensity and beauty. He waited. Listening. Smiling in anticipation.

Dean instantly felt the urge to scoff. He needed to shut down this display of blatant nerdiness and sap before it popped and got all over him - but the look on his friend's face stopped him. Cas had let something bubble to the surface that Dean hadn't seen since before Purgatory. He knew it had to have been at least that long. Cas used to let it show from time to time and it had always made Dean feel more than he'd wanted to, so he remembered those occasions clearly. Somewhere along the line, though, Cas had shuttered this part of himself away, presumably to protect it from the horrors they constantly faced. If that was the case, then this part of him was valuable - and vulnerable. It might even be essential. Dean knew better than to play with that. A harsh or critical word right now could leave an enormous wound that might not ever heal. 

He made a quick decision, pinched his lips shut and just listened.

The music continued to swell, adding the voices of more and more instruments with each measure, building to a powerful emotional crescendo. Cas closed his eyes, unconsciously tilting his face Heavenward and letting the enormity of sound and emotion and energy wash over him.

When the crescendo ended, and the music once again softened to a peaceful backdrop, Cas slowly opened his eyes. He looked over at his friends, still with the same enraptured expression, apparently unable, or maybe just unwilling, to hide what he was feeling. When he finally spoke, it was in a hushed tone.

“What your species has managed to do...with resources so crude and hard won…" He slowly shook his head in amazement, locking eyes with each of them, one at a time. They were able to hold his gaze, but just barely. It wasn't easy for any of them to accept the level of unmasked affection and wonder and  _awe_ he was aiming at them. Not one of them felt even close to worthy. Cas didn't let that stop him. He gestured up toward the speakers. "A simple physical principle...the generation of pressure waves in the air... and yet you use it to create something..." He again gestured vaguely, and he sighed. "Something so much... _more_. Something beautiful. Sublime. It never gets old...watching you.”

 

* * *

“If there were one thing in all of creation that I could give you...just _one thing_... It would be for you to see yourself, even for a moment, the way I see you.”

 

* * *


	24. Short Scenes and Outlines for The Tether

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
>  
> 
> This is a collection of short scenes that were written for or will likely appear in 'The Tether'. They are not connected to one another. This will not flow. At all. Don't be alarmed!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!  
> These selections of dialog or inner thoughts may or may not make it into that fic.
> 
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!
> 
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea.

***** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! *****

 IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS! THERE MAY OR MAY NOT BE SPOILERS IN HERE!

 

 

 

* * *

Mary relays her impressions of the team:  
Tazar is pain in the ass, but not a threat.  
Erethe knows everything about everybody and is totally willing to rat them out.  
There’s at least one couple, whether or not they’re open about it. Usha & Faral.  
They’ve worked together as a team for a very long time. Even the strained relationships seem very tight. Like a real family. They know each other entirely too well.  
From Erethe, she’s learned there’s a wealth of technical, mechanical and combat training/experience among the vessels. She rattles them off from memory:  
(Tazar) Retired Special Ops - now runs a local John Deere repair service,  
(Roz) Cyber Security Specialist - whatever that is.  
(Usha/Faral) Two computer programmers.  
(Erethe) Commander Gutierrez is a nuclear engineer.  
(Ringa) There’s a former Marine Sgt. who’s now an artist and an avid Wiccan - not a witch, though.  
(Vanya) A cultural anthropology professor with a third degree black belt in judo.

“Oh, and...Mr. Fix-It, here (Aneran) - Plumber/Handyman/Mechanic - Army vet. Served in...Afghanistan? Is that right? And apparently the world’s greatest uncle.”

“So, basically, several of these people could kick my ass mentally and physically without breaking a sweat. And a few of them could probably repair or rebuild any piece of equipment in the entire bunker. That’s one hell of a group of willing partners. You must have a pretty convincing pitch.”

Aneran is impressed. Offers Mary a future job in intelligence gathering.  
Dean immediately freaks, thinking he’s asking her to be a vessel.  
Aneran says, ‘no’, just as a human team member. She doesn’t need to be healed or need a family member healed, etc.  
Dean suggests coercion. “Is that you how get people to say ‘yes.’”  
Aneran says ‘usually, yes.’ He tries to not be insulted.

“And what happens if they say ‘no?’”

“I heal them anyway!”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not a heartless asshole, Dean! When I can help someone, I just do! And if that person’s body is capable of hosting one of us, of course I’ll explain our situation to them. Ask if they’d be willing or if they’d at least think about it. Given the number of people we help, there’s usually about ten a year who are physically able to contain one of us. Of those, usually 2 or 3 say ‘yes.’”

 

* * *

“What Vanya showed me is something we’ve seen before, so we already know how to beat it. It’s lock-picking, pure and simple. Figuring out the little puzzle. It shouldn’t take us more than a day to figure out how to get past the warding and shut that thing down. We already have the know-how, it’s just a matter of doing it. But right now, you’ve gotta work on keeping yourself calm so he can focus. We kinda need his help with at least some of it. We’ll get done faster that way.”

Dean took a long, slow breath and let it out. A day. That was much better than he was expecting. Seemed pretty unrealistic, but even if the guy was underestimating, it sounded like it might not be any more than three or four days total, before he and Cas and Sam could go kick something’s ass and end all this. It was great news and he felt himself relax almost fully. When he looked to his left, Cas was calmly staring at him.

 

_***(something happens. A thing. Maybe two things. I dunno. Dean begins to suspect Aneran is completely full of shit.)***_

 

“I thought you said you knew what it was? That you knew how to beat it?” Dean asked. His face quickly contorted as he began to suspect the truth.

“I did...say that, yes,” Aneran answered quietly, with a small nod.

“So that was all bullshit!” Dean barked, stepping a bit closer to the angel. Aneran didn’t move.

“Yeah...I was lyin’. We have no idea how to beat this.” He said it with zero hint of remorse, and that’s likely what stopped Dean from breaking his hand on the angel’s face. He was too shocked.

“We will, though!” Aneran quickly followed up. He had on the most sincere face he could muster. “We’re gonna figure it out! I can promise you that. It’s just...what I said in the kitchen...that was total crap.”

“What the fuck?!” Sam demanded, before his brother had a chance. “You LIED?! That’s it?! That’s your answer?! ‘Oh, yeah, uh, I lied’? Are you fucking serious?!” He’d stepped forward and was now just slightly in front of Dean, crowding into Aneran and glaring at him from a very uncomfortable and threatening distance.

“Sam…” Cas tried to interrupt, but no one was listening.

Aneran calmly looked up at the two men. Several of the other angels stopped what they were doing and were watching.

Dean cast a sidelong glance across the room. Vanya was slowly approaching.

Cas glanced over at Vanya and shook his head. The angel stopped. He was still watching, though. Ready.

“Before you decide to attack me...maybe you could stop and ask yourself why I would do that? Why I’d just straight-up lie right to your faces? Then admit it less than half an hour later?”

“You turn this into a philosophy lecture and I swear…you’re not gonna like what happens,” Sam said icily.

Aneran looked back at him. He made no attempt to move or protect himself in any way and he said nothing more. He just waited for either of the men to answer.

“It made you calm down,” Cas said with a small tug on Dean’s hand.

“You needed to take care of your family. I needed to take care of mine. And we all needed to get to work. None of that was gonna happen if you’d kept freaking out and Castiel’s mind slowly turned to mush.” Aneran sighed. “Ok...so, maybe it wasn’t the best tactic...but it’s what I had and I used it.”


	25. Snippets for The Tether (maybe)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
> This is a collection of very short 'snippets' - bits written for or during the writing of 'The Tether'. There are one or two single line entries. Especially the one about the puppies wrestling on the carpet. I have no idea where that's gonna go, but I swear I will find a way to work it in. I have to. It's...I just have to...that's all I'm sayin'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!  
> These selections of dialog or inner thoughts may or may not make it into that fic.
> 
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!
> 
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea.

***** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! *****

IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS! THERE MAY OR MAY NOT BE SPOILERS IN HERE!

 

 

 

* * *

He was now keenly aware if wanted to get any real information about what was happening, he’d have to get it from someone other than Cas. That alone made him want to reach over and strangle the angel. So... not the best time to have a heart-to-heart about good communication practices. Or worse, an awkward chat about their new little hand-holding situation.

 

* * *

***(someone makes a reference to ‘The Blue Screen of Death’)***

DEAN: “I hate that I know what that means! You ‘n Charlie turned me into a freakin’ nerd!”

SAM: “You only know what it means ‘cause you see it twice a month! When your amazingly bad downloading choices jack the registry! Again!”

SAM: “Here’s a hint: When you choose to completely ignore everything I’ve told you about downloading crap from shady porn sites...and the little window pops up asking if you want to ‘Run Now’? Just Say ‘No,’ Dean! Just...Say...‘No!’ And you will forever stay blissfully ignorant of all things system-level.” Sam thought for a moment. “Unless your hard drive implodes or something catastrophic like that. Which should happen, like, once every five years, not every five days!”

DEAN: “It’s not every five days! Freakin’ drama queen...”

 

* * *

That’s when Dean noticed his eyes. They were wide and glossy, the brilliant blue-on-white almost glowing against the surrounding skin. They looked very close to the way they had years ago...before the weight of so many mistakes and burdens had begun to crush away the vitality they held. He wasn’t expecting to see Cas this way and he almost flinched, but managed to stop himself. Instead, he allowed only a tiny change in his expression. It would have been imperceptible to anyone who didn’t know him extremely well.

Cas saw it, of course, and tilted his head slightly. A silent question. It was such a familiar and badly missed look on the angel’s face that Dean finally did react. He smiled. It was big...open and sincere.

 

* * *

His friend’s hand was very similar in size to his own, though the palm and fingers were thickened from years of hard use. The greater pressure Dean’s fingers applied between each of his own made this experience quite different from the few times he’d held Daphne’s much smaller hand in this way. He decided that he preferred Dean’s. The inherent tightness in the way their hands slotted together was somehow comforting. He imagined that if Dean were awake and gripping his hand, that comfort would only increase. It was a nice thought. It served as a momentary distraction from the acute embarrassment he still felt.

 

* * *

***(This may be appropriate for one of Cas’s communications with the boys. Maybe a little while in, when he’s growing weary and very lonely. Pining for home. Missing them.)***

Cas's thoughts darted back to the time when he'd been told about Sam Winchester - 'The Boy with the Demon Blood.' What a sad, and deeply shallow description that had been of Sam. For the thousandth time since meeting him, Cas felt a momentary pang of guilt and shame over his blind acceptance of that description. Sam was so much more than that. Sam was...Sam. It made Cas wonder how many more unfair, incomplete descriptions or prejudices had been taught to him and were now hiding in his mind, just waiting for someone to prove them utterly wrong. He hoped there weren't many. And he hoped he wouldn't be as cruel to those people as he had been to Sam in the beginning. Cas's smile faded a bit, with the memory, and his eyes took on their familiar sad tinge.

 

* * *

Cas’s fuck ups had been epic. Sam wouldn’t argue that. But he’d never really considered just how fragile Cas’s emotional state might be, until he’d watched him fall apart at the kitchen table. The very thought of having to leave again breaking the angel in a way that the worst calamities never could. He hadn’t thought about how badly Cas might need his only friends to help him navigate the mountain of brand new crap he’d never had to deal with in his eons as an Angel of the Lord. And most of all, he hadn’t realized that Cas needed them to just let him know they loved him and wanted him around. After all this time, Cas still hadn’t been sure if they did, and that fact alone had broken Sam’s heart.

Now...seeing the angel fall apart for the second time in as many days, Sam saw no reason to hold back. Cas was family. And if your brother is hurting...if he’s crying...you hug him. Period.

 

* * *

Mary smiled up at Sam and instinctively reached over to give his forearm a gentle squeeze as he settled in. He smiled back. Without thinking, he returned the affection with a hand placed over the top of hers. And then they separated.

Sam felt a momentary twinge of alarm, as though he’d caught himself letting his guard down, when he shouldn’t. All the terrifying questions and insecurities he’d battled as he tried to figure out how to interact with his mother - What’s appropriate; What does she want?; What do I want?; How am I even supposed to act around my...mom? It all crashed back into his mind. He had to force himself to stop. To remember that he’d already concluded this really was ok. They could do this. It was normal. Healthy. Were he to see any mother and son do the same, he’d think nothing of it.

He relaxed, letting the logic sink back in and take over...sweeping away the fragments of the doubt and insecurity it had fought and shattered once again. It had been getting easier each time. Quicker. He found himself hopeful that it might only take a few more weeks before he would stop second guessing himself entirely. Or at most a few more months. He couldn’t allow himself to think that it might take longer than that.

 

* * *

It was the amused gaze of a billion year old creature watching puppies wrestle on the carpet.

 

* * *

Crowley: "So, Squirrel...you've put Feathers on a proper leash. Always knew it would come to this. Not all pets can handle being allowed to roam free. Always tipping over rubbish bins or pissing on the neighbors' prized rose bushes. Such a liability."

OR

"Always knew you boys would be interesting to watch."

OR

"So...finally put Feathers on a leash."

Something about power exchange and Castiel learning to submit - i.e. something insulting and all around horrible. I dunno. I'm not getting the voice right, so...this is just an outline.

 

 

 


	26. Short Scenes, Outlines, Snippets for Vamps-Nightclub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***SPOILER ALERT***  
> This is a collection of short scenes, outline, snippets, etc. which may or may not make their way into the sequel to 'The Tether'. The working title for the sequel is 'The Vampires, the Nightclub and Castiel's First Date'. That'll probably change, once I start writing it.  
> Anyway...if you don't want any potential spoilers for that fic, don't read this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***SPOILER ALERT***  
> If you don't want any potential spoilers for the sequel to 'The Tether', don't read this.

*****SPOILER ALERT*****  
**If you don't want any potential spoilers for the sequel to 'The Tether', don't read this.**

 

* * *

_***(Title ideas)***_

‘The Vampires, The Nightclub, and Castiel's First Date’

‘Vamps at the Nightclub’

‘Rich Guys Hunt in Armani’

‘Winchester...Cas Winchester’  ← (LOL...No. Might be fun to use in the story somewhere, though.)

 

  

* * *

_***Vampires have excellent hearing. Cas can hear Sam, if he prays, but Sam can’t get info from Cas without some kind of signal, other than speech. Cas attempts to create such a ‘signal.’***_

 

“If I have an idea and I wish for you to follow my lead, I will simply look into your eyes with a meaningful expression...like so.” Cas demonstrated.

Sam looked at his friend's utterly blank stare and sighed. He simply didn't have the energy left to explain why that wouldn't work.

“How 'bout we figure out a code for this stuff after I've had some sleep? It's been a really long day.”

“Of course,” Cas said with a small nod. He turned to gather his jacket and coat from atop Sam's bed.

 

 

* * *

_***(Outline)***_

_***(Sam has talked the DJ into playing a couple of country songs, so Dean and Cas can two-step together. He's caught on to the fact that they both want to. He's been watching their little dance lessons closely enough, so he decides to throw them a bone and force the issue. This music choice highly pleases the dude in the cowboy hat and boots, all the way across the room. This is made clear, when the dude lets out a yell that could probably be heard 8 city blocks, and pulls his partner up to hit the dance floor. He and his partner watch Dean and Cas awkwardly get their simple two-step goin' and they pass close enough to give them both an encouraging nod. Sam finally get to dance with a woman!  LOL  It's been a long night for Sam!)***_

Dean dances with Cas. Kyle asks to cut in for the next song. Dean obliges and Cas looks hesitant, but goes with it, after Dean nods at him, with a grin. Kyle's husband, Alan, is then left standing near Dean, watching his husband dance away. He looks over at Dean with a quiet smile, extending his hand to Dean and gesturing with a nod toward the dance floor. Dean pauses for just a moment and then smiles very broadly. “Why the hell not,” he yells over the music, as he takes the guy's hand. “But I only know how to lead, man! Sorry!”

“Well, then...lead away!” The guy easily switched hands and Dean took him through all the basic paces on their turns around the dance floor.

After Dean and Cas share their dances, and Sam has had some fun, too, Kyle and Alan catch the three of them. Kyle asks, “Y'all wanna blow this joint and go have some real fun?”

“What kind of fun,” Cas shouts over the music. He's slightly drunk, but only enough to start getting a touch mouthy and a little less shy about the decision making. He has one arm slung over Dean's shoulder.

“A place where they play music just like this all night long, and ya don't need a fancy suit to get in.”

Cas looks at Dean and then turns to Sam. “Do you want to do that, Will?” Cas then looks back at the guy, but still doesn't quite meet his eyes. The cowboy hat is entirely too mesmerizing. “I need to check with my date! This is, Will!” Cas throws his arm around Sam's waist and pulls him forward, proudly introducing him. “He's my date!”

“Will. Good ta know ya,” Cowboy Hat says, shaking Sam's hand. “Kyle Wilkes.”

“And this is Dean.”

“Dean,” Kyle says with a nod and a handshake. “And this is my husband, Alan Foster.”

“Steve,” Cas shouted, extending his hand to Alan. It was a little over boisterous, but it made Alan smile and nod. Sam was still amazed by how quickly people warmed up to Cas in this atmosphere. It was...almost surreal. Unexpected, at the very least.

“Good dancer, your husband,” Dean grinned.

“Sure is,” Kyle nodded, slipping his arm around Alan. “ 's why I married 'im.” Alan snorted and closed his eyes. “Well...I guess it's just wunna the reasons.” He then pulled Alan closer to kiss his cheek and reached down and gave him one solid smack on the ass. “Plus, he sure is pretty!”

At this point, Alan has assumed the look of someone who long ago came to terms with his man's gigantic personality and has decided to simply love him for it. He gave another quick snort and shook his head slowly.

Kyle leaned forward a bit to speak over the music. “I gotta hit the head. Be right back. Y'all think on it, while I'm gone.”

  

 

* * *

“So, when I say I kinda got a little insecure, it's because...I realized of the two of us, Cas wasn't the regular guy with the uber-hot date for the big event. I was.” Sam grimaced a bit through his smile.

Dean winced in sympathy. “Yeah, it's gets better, too. Wait 'til they start assumin you're one of their friends' dad. That's a real treat.”

“Ooh...Ouch!”

“Yeah. Good times.”

“He really did do an amazing job, though. I was proud of him.”

..........

“You must have been stuck in the kitchen when some of this crap went down. 'Cause if you'd seen it...  Man, Cas was...  It was really strange.” Sam squinted a bit, still trying to process the events of the previous night. “I mean, it's one thing for him to be better at blending in, ya know? To learn some dance moves. To learn how to look and act more casual...How to NOT unintentionally creep the shit out of people.”

Dean snorted at that. He swirled the amber nectar he'd poured into his fanciest whiskey glass, gently coating the sides to release more of it's gloriously rich aroma. He wondered, not for the first time since their generous host had handed him a whole case of Johnny Walker Blue, how he'd be able to live after all twelve bottles of the perfectly-aged-nirvana had been consumed. He took another worshipful sip and decided he really might not want to.

Sam chuckled. “But the thing that really got me...and I've gotta admit, I kinda had to fight back a little insecurity...”

“Whaaat?” Dean scoffed in high-pitched whine, his face crinkling over-dramatically. “Noooo, Sammy? Mr. Smooth? Say it ain't so!”

Sam grinned, almost bashfully, as he stretched his arms out and leaned back in his chair, to shake loose a little tension. “Dude...I was fine at first. I had my moves goin'. You know. I was getting' the looks...makin' it happen.” He started bobbing a little, mildly re-enacting his dance-floor-coolness from his seat in the groaning wooden chair.

Dean laughed. 

“And I’m thinkin’, ‘It's all good. I can still bring it.’ Right?” Sam paused, grinning like an idiot. “And then I look over at Cas... And not just one time, but like... the whole night... I see Cas, and he's got this... _swirling cloud_ of little _minions_ just following him everywhere he goes. Women, Dean... _Beautiful_ women! _Dozens_ of them, just, clearly trying anything they can to figure out how to get close to him, ya know? Get his attention. AND GUYS! Holy crap, Dean, you shoulda seen some of the GUYS! And they clearly weren't all just the groupies there to pick up rich people, they _were_ the rich people! It was crazy!”

 

 

* * *

_***(Outline)***_

_***(Probably won't end up in the fic, 'cause it's ridiculous and possibly the cheesiest thing I've ever thought up. But who knows...and it made me smile, so...screw it! I'm keepin' it!)_

After vanquishing vamps, they go back in and have fun. Sam and Cas dance, not as a couple now, and Cas is embarrassingly bad. So, Sam defaults back to the silly stuff he'd taught Cas after a long night of research/practice – (i.e. getting used to being close, touching, leaning in for a kiss, when Cas should or shouldn't smile, etc.)  The electric slide, a goofy line dance routine that includes very, VERY basic hip hop, 1940's jive and a stylized Charleston. It's inappropriate for the music and atmosphere, but it's just stupid enough to work.

Sam finds himself having a huge amount of fun with Cas and the delight on both of their faces is infectious. Their buddies, old and new, form a small circle around them, giving them room and watching them, cheering when Cas gets a move exactly right and it looks cool.

At the end, Sam throws his arms around Cas in an enormous hug and just hangs onto him, talking into his ear, as the music booms around them. Hunters/angels/their new ‘booth buddies’ all cut in and get them both to dance with them for a while.

Cas is back to being awful, but one of the women decides to start imitating some of his moves with him, and Cas finds this delightful. At least three more people decide this is a good game and join in. Sam looks over and laughs until he's red-faced. They look like 5 yr olds dancing in their kindergarten class...blissed out in their awful awkward movements.

 

 

* * *

_***(Outline)***_

Boys are tracking vampire nest. Scoping out a club where there have been nearby victims. All apparently attractive, male couples. During their surveillance, they spot an attack happening down an alley, behind the club. Sam beheads one vampire. Cas grabs the one who bit the guy and pins him to the wall. Dean helps the guy who's been bitten and calms the boyfriend. He explains that they have to get the injured guy somewhere he'll be safe and away from any chance of feeding, until they can cure him.  Dean asks the vampire for info about the nest, but it's clear he won't get anywhere with this guy, and they hear other patrons approaching the end of the alleyway. Dean empties out his flask of Holy Water and Cas opens the pinned vampire's jugular. They fill the flask with his blood, then Cas smites him.

The couple are a 32 yr old IT entreprenneur and his partner of 11 years, also an IT whiz. They own the club and had stepped out for some fresh air, when they were attacked. They knew about the recent attacks, but they thought they'd be safe. The alley was well lit and open, and there were lots of cameras. Plus, the security team often patrolled that area.

The two men are taken back to their penthouse apartment, where they have an enormously decked out server room that has thick, sound/vibration-proofed walls, self-contained ventilation and A/C, etc, for handling a mini server farm. The boys securely bind him and lock him in the server cage. His partner and Sam are left to watch him from outside the room, via surveillance cameras. Cas takes Dean and disappears, to gather the ingredients for the spell to heal him.

While Sam waits, he talks with the man about his partner. He tells him it's gonna be ok...that they can cure him. The man is desperate. It's clear he deeply loves the man locked up in that room and will do anything to help him.  He also realizes that there are vampires in the world. And, apparently, angels. That takes a sec, of course, but it is quickly clear that he and his partner, plus friend and family and everyone else in the city, are in grave danger. He volunteers to help in any way he can. Since the club seems to be their primary hunting ground, and since they seem to strike when the wealthiest patrons are amassed there, the guy agrees to help them set up a sting operation. Two of the boys will pose as a couple and attend the “Thank You” celebration the guy has already scheduled for the night after next. It is a party thrown to thank all the donors who helped to get his latest startup launched, plus all the large donors for his personal charity he started. Nearly every guest will be either very wealthy or on their way there.  Plus, loads of beautiful hopefuls, he's sure. “There always seems to be,” he says a bit wearily, at one point.

Sam decides it will be him who will attend as an investor. He will be one of the “anonymous” investors, that the guy will add to the list under his “real name”. Since the vamps seem to dig going after two at a time, Sam decides he needs a date. And that date cannot be his brother. No way can they pull off being a couple, because...gross. No. So, Sam decides his date will be Cas.

Sam shudders for a while, as the implications of that choice wash over him:

Cas has minimal social skills; Cas will have to learn nearly everything about the club scene – dancing, how to deal with advances from people; etc

Then he realizes:

“Oh, my God...I'll have to kiss Cas!” and lastly, “Oh, my God...I'm gonna have to PRACTICE kissing Cas! 'Cause they'll be watching for us, now. They'll know hunters got their guys in the alley, and if we don't sell it… SHIT! Shit, shit, shit!”

Dean will temp with the catering crew, so they'll have someone in the corridors and kitchen, etc.

Dean and Cas appear back in the room, laden with supplies. Dean notices the horrified look on Sam's face and worries, but Sam says it's a plan and he'll explain when they've cured the guy. So they do cure him. It's all good. Until Sam tells Dean the plan.

Dean just seems more put out about the fact that he's gonna have to schlep shots and hors d'oeuvres to a bunch of douchey rich people, while Sam and Cas get to have fun and be all cool. Sam then points out that Dean would blend in at a club better if he would change literally everything about himself, including his personality, likes and dislikes, hair, interpersonal style, dancing ability, taste in music...at which point Dean cuts him off.

“And Cas? Cas is gonna blend?” Dean scoffs.

“I'll come up with some stuff Cas can do. We've got three days. It'll be enough.” Sam looks at the club owner and his newly healed partner.  “We're gonna need to really blend, though. And I promise you...if we're supposed to be rich donors, we don't own a single item of clothing that will pull that off. You guys are gonna have to hook us up.” He looks at them, a little embarrassed, knowing what he's asking.

“Just gimme 'til tomorrow. I'll make it happen. But, are you sure you can do this? I mean, what happens if they figure it out? They're gonna be IN the club, right? That's what you're thinking? What happens if you two get made?”

“We won't get made,” Sam says, grimly.

“But...”

“We get made and people are gonna die. A lot of people. So...we won't get made. And we're gonna need as much help with that as we can get.” He looks very seriously at the two men, until they understand the gravity of the situation. Then he stands and the three boys leave.

 

 

* * *

 


	27. Destiel (Finally) - Scenes, Outlines and Snippets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ***SPOILER ALERT***  
> These are scenes intended for the sequel to 'The Tether'. If you don't want spoilers, don't read this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***SPOILER ALERT***  
> These are scenes intended for the sequel to 'The Tether'. If you don't want spoilers, don't read this.

*****SPOILER ALERT*****

**These are scenes intended for the sequel to 'The Tether'. If you don't want spoilers, don't read this.**

 

 

* * *

*****(Outline)*****

 

Cas was in the kitchen, cleaning dishes, making coffee, etc. Dean came in, smiling.  They’d spent the night together a couple of times already. Dean went to him, putting his arms around Cas’s waist, from behind and nuzzling into his neck.

Cas is a little alarmed. He thinks Dean is initiating sex, instead of just being affectionate.

“Dean…” he asked, hesitant and confused. “Are you... _initiating_?” ***(He's referring to a previous conversation they'd had, where they discussed how to properly 'initiate' sex. Cas is still a little confused, but getting there.)***

Dean kept up the affection, pulling Cas closer from behind and slowly rocking back and forth with him.

“Mmhmm,” he answered into Cas’s hair.

“Is this really appropriate? What if Sam or Mary were to come into the kitchen while we’re doing this?”

“Let them see. They know what’s going on.”

Trusting that Dean knew what he was doing, Cas set down what he was holding and gently turned to face him. He put his arms around his friend and hugged him tightly, pressing the front of his vessel against him. It was a very innocent gesture. Incredibly loving, and it made Dean smile hugely and laugh just a bit. He hugged Cas back, then.

After a few moments, Cas began to let his hands roam more freely over Dean’s shoulders, back, arms. Eventually, he pulled back just enough and kissed him slow and deep, giving himself fully.

Dean happily reciprocated. It was a glorious kiss and far more than he’d been expecting from just a simple ‘good morning’ snuggle at the kitchen sink...which is what he _thought_ they were doing. What he _thought_ he’d been ‘initiating.’

As the kiss continued, though, Cas let his hands glide lower, eventually starting to tug at Dean’s shirt to un-tuck it from his pants. When he was able to get one hand onto the bare skin of Dean’s side, he broke off the kiss and quickly began to work his way along Dean’s jaw and neck, toward his ear. His hands were eagerly seeking more skin and one of them began a slow slide beneath the waistband of Dean’s jeans.

Dean’s brow furrowed for just a second, but he continued to smile. It was impossible not to.

“Ok, Cas. That’s a little too much.” he said and began to extricate himself from the angel’s embrace.

Cas stopped. He felt Dean pulling away, but it took a moment for him to understand that he needed to relax his arms.

Thinking Cas was being flirtatious, Dean giggled and reached with both of his hands to take hold of Cas’s arms and gently pull them off of his back.

“Ok. Slow down. We’ve got stuff to take care of.” He smiled at him and leaned in to give Cas a quick peck on the cheek, before moving away to pour himself some coffee.

After a long moment of watching him, Cas swallowed hard and spoke.

“What did I do?”

“Huh?” Dean asked, absently. He was digging in the cabinet for the cereal, focused on putting together a quick breakfast, and didn’t see the absolutely devastated look on Cas’s face.

“Was it that I un-tucked your shirt?” Cas’s voice was quiet, but steady. It betrayed very little emotion.

Dean leaned down to peer closely at the coffee maker. The water fill-level indicator appeared to be stuck and he was trying to figure out why. He tapped on the clear plastic window to see if he could get it to move. It didn’t.

“What? My shirt? Oh! No, that’s...that’s fine, Cas,” Dean mumbled, and then gave up on the indicator. He still hadn’t turned around. By the time he did, Cas had turned back to face the sink and was finishing the dishes.

Dean took his mug of coffee and the sugar jar over to the table and sat. He pulled his phone from his pocket and scanned the weather reports. There was a storm headed their way. A big one, from the way it had looked earlier, when he’d checked the local station’s Doppler radar. It was late July, still the height of tornado season, and leaving the bunker right as the leading edge was rolling through would just be...well...stupid. Plus, storms like this often dropped sizeable hail, so Baby would be staying in the garage until the risk passed.

“So...looks like we could leave right about noon,” Dean said. He was talking to himself and also answering Cas’s question from earlier about when he should be ready to leave.

Cas put the last of the pots in the drying rack, wiped the counter very quickly and turned to leave.

“Did you hear me?” Dean asked, just making sure. Cas hadn’t responded at all.

“Yes. Noon,” Cas said as he was about to step out of the kitchen doorway.

“Where ya goin?”

“I need to take care of something. I’ll be ready to go,” Cas said, still walking away. He finished the last sentence when he was already out in the hallway.

Dean squinted a bit. It seemed a bit of an abrupt exit. But, it was Cas. That type of thing happened a lot with him.  He did wonder, though, why Cas was walking and not flying. But he also did that from time to time, so… Dean had learned long ago not to sweat the small stuff with the angel. They’d all be happier that way.

He briefly checked his email, and then tucked his phone and scooped in another big spoonful of cereal.

“What the fuck did you do to Cas?!” Sam demanded, as he stepped through the doorway to the kitchen.

Dean looked up, almost choking on his mouthful of food.

His brother looked furious, face flushed and eyes staring daggers into Dean’s skull.  

“What?!” Dean responded. “Cas? He was just here!” He had no idea what the hell was happening right now, but… "Why are you...Where is he?!” Dean asked, rising from his seat. His eyes had gone very wide.

“I just passed him in the hallway! He’s crying, Dean!”

Dean stood there, mouth open, face scrunched up in total confusion.

“He was fine, like...1 minute ago!”

“Fine!” Sam mocked. He snorted derisively and shook his head, still glaring at his brother. “He was ‘fine!’ Yeah…”

“He was!” Dean said, defending himself. Then his face fell back into total confusion. “Did he say anything?”

“Of course not, Dean! We’re talkin’ about CAS!” Sam barked. “And even if he had, he’s not gonna throw you under the bus! So, you’re safe!”

“Hey! Come on! You know that’s not what I meant!”

“What I ‘ _know_ ’ is that it’s been three days, Dean! Three fucking days...actually, LESS than that! What was the plan, huh?! Wait ‘til you had someone that’s almost entirely innocent so you could shoot for your ‘fuck-it-up’ personal best?!”

Dean’s resistance collapsed.

“That’s not fair, Sam,” he barely said.

“THAT’s not fair!” Sam yelled, pointing back toward the hallway.

Dean momentarily locked up...caught between trying to speak and trying to walk out of the room to go find Cas as quickly as he could. Neither action was happening, though.

Sam helped him along.

“FIX! THIS!” he boomed. His voice was deafening as it bounced off of the tile walls.

 

 

* * *

_***(Partial Scene - They're in bed. And probably naked. Enjoy.)***_

_  
_

“It seems I’ve managed to bungle nearly everything I’ve attempted in the last 8 years. I’m afraid I’ll ruin this, too.”

“How would you ruin it?”

“I’m afraid I’ll do something...weird.”

“You will definitely do something weird,” Dean deadpanned. “Absolutely guaranteed.”

Cas looked up at him in shock. But quickly caught the joke. A wry smile lit his face.

Dean kept his expression almost entirely neutral, with just the tiniest glint in his eyes, letting Cas know he was about to be relentlessly teased.

“I just expect it. Like...I’ll walk into my room and you’ll be in there doing some jacked-up yoga pose, except you’re hoverin' three feet off the ground and makin' weird bird calls.”

“I don’t hover. You’ve never seen me hover. Why would I?”

“I dunno...I mean it’ll be something like... ‘it helps you _align with the spheres_ ’ or some shit.”

“That makes...no sense whatsoever.”

“Exactly.”

Cas paused, squinting as he grinned. “Your story doesn’t make sense, and somehow that’s _my_ doing?”

“Yes.”

“That’s ridiculous. It makes even less sense than the story.”

“Hey...man...ya know... _you’re_ the guy that does the weird shit. I’m just relayin’ the information.”

“About situations that never happened?”

“You really wanna go there? ‘Cause I have no problem bringin' up the buck naked and covered in bees, thing,’ Dean said, in an accommodating tone.

“Yes...alright. Point made.”

“I mean, if it’s gonna make you happier- ”

“No. That’s sufficient. Thank you.”

Dean finally cracked a grin and snorted, allowing himself to partake in his own joke.

“So, yeah...you’re definitely gonna do somethin' weird.”

Cas cleared his throat, horribly embarrassed, but still enjoying this.

Dean continued.

“But...apparently...ya know…I guess I dig that.” He swallowed and looked down at their hands, blushing lightly from the honesty of the admission. Their fingers were loosely intertwined, and he gently caressed the angel’s hand everywhere his thumb and fingertips could easily reach, without disturbing the connection. Cas watched him do this, and began imitating the action, a little at a time. “So, you don’t have to worry about that. Is what I’m sayin’.”

“I like the way you say things.”

Dean snorted, a deep blush creeping it’s way onto his face again.

“Ah...Cas… You just say whatever pops in there, don’t ya?”

“I _do_ like it,” Cas protested, a little confused. “You’re so imaginative. I love listening to you describe the things you see in your mind. Your ideas and thoughts and dreams… you have seemingly boundless creativity. It’s remarkable.”

Dean’s blush deepened. He sighed, ending it in a low groan of discomfort.

“And you make me laugh,” Cas continued. “I like laughing. Quite a bit, actually. It took me a long while to understand your humor, but now that I do… The way you say things… You’re often very funny. I’ve never laughed as much as I do when I’m with you. I’m grateful for that.”

Dean realized he was either going to have to force Cas to stop complimenting him or find some hole he could crawl into so he could deal with his embarrassment in peace. Preferably somewhere he wouldn’t be able to look over and see the angel’s big blue eyes gazing at him with open adoration. It was killing him.

“What’m I gonna do with you?” Dean said, barely above a whisper. Not knowing what else to do or say, he lifted their entwined hands toward his face and kissed the back of Cas’s. There was a long pause before he spoke again. “I like when you laugh, so...I guess that works out.”

Cas smiled. He pulled their hands up to his own mouth and mimicked what Dean had just done.

Dean grinned.

“You can do your own stuff too, ya know. You don’t have to just do what I do.”

“Alright,” Cas answered quietly. “You were just wondering what you would do with me. I have several ideas, if you’re interested.” He said it with nearly blank directness. No hint of innuendo or flirtation.

Dean just looked at him. He couldn’t decide if that was terrifyingly creepy or hot as hell. And then he realized it didn’t matter, because now he absolutely HAD to know what those ideas were.

“Well...actually, the first ones are things I'd like you to do _to_ me. But, I’d certainly reciprocate, if you wished.”

Unfortunately, Dean’s mouth was agape after that last little tidbit, and after a brief and intense staring contest, he moved his jaw to speak and a humiliating amount of drool escaped and landed on the pillow.

Cas saw this and his face fell. His eyes went wide with concern.

“Are you alright?” he asked, slightly rising to get a closer look at his friend.

“Yeah! Jeez...sorry,” Dean stammered, after he’d swallowed the excess spit and wiped his mouth.

Cas waved away the mess on the pillow and continued to watch Dean worriedly.

“You just...um…” he continued to fumble, as he kept his eyes locked onto the angel’s. “That was…“ He swallowed again. “Yeah, Cas...I’m, uh...I’m interested,” he just barely managed to say.

* * *

***(Idea)***

Cas asks Mary if John enjoyed anal penetration and, if so, can she give him any advice?


	28. The Gender Swap Fic - A thing I was thinking about - I dunno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean and Sam swap bodies with two women. I dunno how. A thing happens.
> 
> These are bits and pieces, mostly in outline form.
> 
> If you're short on time, for Chuck's sake...go read something else. This is totally not worth it.

 

_***(Outline)***_

 

Dean and Sam swap bodies with two women they've been trying to help. The women, in the guys' bodies, are flung to some other area of the country, while Sam and Dean awaken lying on the ground, about 100 yards from the Impala, on a gravel road.

Sam is in a pair of shorts and a tank top, little to no makeup, sunglasses on his head, holding back his approximately same length hair, and white ankle socks in Keds.

Dean is in a flowery sundress, with flutter sleeves, a mass of bangles on one wrist and a charm bracelet on the other. He's in full makeup, dangly earrings and has bouncy, curly hair. He's wearing two inch kitten heels and his finger and toe nails are painted beautifully. As they walk to the car, Dean is tipping wildly in the heels. "Oh t' hell with this" and kicks one off. Then pulls off the other and throws it hard into the woods. He then walks painfully over the gravel, but at least evenly.  


 

.......... 

 

_***(Outline and partial scene)***_

  
_Castiel appeared at the end of the map table with the usual suddenness that always made Dean flinch. He eyed the two brothers with an intensity that made them both a bit uncomfortable. Both Sam and Dean looked awkward in their clearly unsatisfactory clothing, but Sam seemed to be taking it in stride, focusing instead on the books in front of him. Dean, however, appeared very close to swiping the entire contents of the table onto the floor._

"Nice of you to show, Cas!"

"Hello, Dean."

“Hey, Cas. Glad you're here,” Sam sighed.

"I mean, we only called 12 hrs ago,” Dean snapped. “Hell its almost like you thought this was important or something!" He waved his hand in front of his new, sundress-clad body, for emphasis.

  
Castiel stared at him for a moment, and then turned to Sam.

“Hello, Sam.”

“We really need some help,” Sam said with a somewhat bashful half-smile.

"I regret not being here sooner," Castiel began, forcing himself to ignore Dean's tantrum. “I was delayed. There was a..."

"Wait...", Dean interrupted. "How did you know I was me?" His tone was suddenly uneasy...accusatory. He turned his body more fully toward Cas while casually dropping one hand to the hilt of the angel blade lying near him on the table. "Why isn't that me?" He said, gesturing at Sam.

Sam's face immediately changed to the same questioning expression as Dean's. Both brothers had now tensed, instinctively readying for action.

Castiel simply stared at them both for just a moment, his eyes narrowing as his head tilted slightly. "I don't understand. Why wouldn't I know that you are...'you'?"  
Dean rose slowly. He kept his eyes fixed on the angel and slowly brought the blade to his side.

Castiel noticed the blade and Dean's body language and took a very small step backward, fighting the instinct to release his own blade from his sleeve.

"Oh, I don't know, Cas? Maybe because you've never seen either of these bodies before and would have no way of knowing who is who?" Dean casually took a couple of steps foreword. "And we texted you. So, you've never heard these voices either. But you knew I'm me and not him." He motioned at Sam and then fumbled a bit. "I mean her...or him...Whatever."

“I could never mistake your soul for another, Dean.” Cas said, his face still showing some confusion. “Though even without the ability to see your soul, I believe I would have discerned your identity from your initial greeting.”

“My 'greeting'?” Dean asked, still moving slowly forward.

Cas continued, darting his eyes from Dean to Sam to the blade in Dean's hand.

“Sam's greeting is usually warm. Hospitable. Many times he conveys gratitude or relief. Your greeting, Dean, while the words may seem friendly, is often tinged with criticism or even open hostility.” Castiel said all of this without a hint of sarcasm. A simple statement of fact. He glanced quickly to the blade again and then brought his widened eyes back to Dean's. He held his gaze, unblinking.

Dean stopped. His face twisted into a slightly confused grimace.

“I'm not 'hostile!'” Dean barked. He looked just a tiny bit wounded. And then he noticed that he was, in fact, preparing to attack with an angel blade. His shoulders slumped and he let the blade lower.

Castiel continued, hoping to further prove his innocence, but no longer fearing imminent attack. "Physical appearance hardly matters to me, Dean. I'd recognize you in any form. To me, your soul is..." He hesitated, trying to find the correct words. "...intimately familiar.”

The faucet in the kitchen let one drop fall into the sink. It was deafening.

Sam broke first. "Okay!" He said, letting out a deep breath and turning very quickly back to his book. "So, that's ...definitely him." He said it to himself more than to anyone else, and cleared his throat.

Dean blinked. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. With a huge exhale, he dropped his eyes away. "And... thanks for making it weird, Cas," he moaned, taking his previous seat and tossing the knife aside.

"As I was saying,” Castiel explained, relaxing and taking the offered seat at the end of the table, “I was delayed. (insert something bizarre sounding and unnecessary for the brothers to know.) “It was all somewhat...disorienting."

"Yeah, it's cool, Cas," Sam said. “We're just glad you could make it.”

"And you don't find this situation...'disorienting'," Dean demanded? Clearly, he wasn't done bitching.

“Dean,” Sam moaned, exhausted.

The bitching stopped, but not for long. Dean was covered with flowers, and his lacy bra and panties were still sweaty from their long day of driving in the summer heat and they were starting to chafe his skin. And none of his other clothes fit, not even Sam's stuff, and he didn't have any decent shoes that fit and his hair was hanging in his eyes, and he didn't know how to get the make-up off and he'd rubbed it into his eyes and they were itchy and swollen, now, and... He most certainly was not done bitching. No. No he was not.

 

.......... 

 

_***(Outline)***_

Dean tries his usual evening 4 whiskies and becomes extremely drunk, before he realizes it's too much. Apparently, this woman doesn't drink heavily. He gets loud and happy, then loud and aggressive, then settles into the awesome, "I love you, man" phase.

Castiel has been with the two of them through all of this, diligently researching reversal spells, etc.

Dean has been trying to research, too, but has been constantly annoyed by his body's discomfort level. None of his clothes fit him now, because his body has large breasts, a defined waist and large hips. She's also significantly overweight, so her curves are exaggerated. She's tall and has a good figure, but even her own clothing doesn't seem to want to cooperate. Dean found the underwear and bra to be fitted well enough, but the lace was starting to chafe.

With no shirt to fit over his chest properly and no pants that he could get over his hips at all, he was left with only the stupid sundress, and it has also become uncomfortable, as the day has worn on. Sam changed into his usual, when he got home, and his pants did at least fit over his new body's hips, but he was drowning in his clothing. He decided to continue to wear the tank top, but borrowed one of Dean's smaller over shirts. He was still swimming in it, but at least it was smaller than any of his shirts. He pulled on a pair of sweatpants and tugged the drawstring within an inch of its life. Then he rolled up his pant legs until they were huge balls of fabric at the ankle.

Cas patiently allowed Dean to go through his drunk phases. At one point, though, Dean clearly needed to be put to bed. Cas volunteered to help him and half carried him into his room.

Dean bitched about how his clothes didn't fit, at one point standing in front of Cas in the lacey bra and panties, and saying something about how they looked pretty, but they suck to actually wear. They're itchy and they feel awful when they get sweaty.

He then starts bitching about how his eyes hurt, now, cause he'd been rubbing his eyes earlier, and pushed in the makeup. Then he tried to get the makeup off and he wound up grinding it into his eyes more. His poor eyes were red and bloodshot...a mess of dark smears and flecks and the lipstick was everywhere, too. His hair is a hot mess.

He catches himself in the mirror in the bathroom, as Cas tries to help him use Vaseline (Sam figured that out via deduction – soap and water doesn't work, so use something oily, that won't sting your eyes) to get the makeup off. His eyes start to well up and he looks at Cas.

"She had herself all prettied up and I ruined her, Cas! I don't know how to be pretty!" He sniffles.

Cas gently assures him that it'll be ok. Dean tries to figure out why he's so upset, and chalks it up to being drunk.

As two or three days go by, Dean finds himself easier to anger, to lose his patience and to actually cry. And it feels good to cry...REALLY good.

He sits down across from Sam, legs spread wide in the baggy sweatpants they finally found for him at the thrift store. He seems a bit more relaxed and alert. He's tired though, and he occasionally puts his hand on his lower belly. "Dammit," he grumbles. "Dude, did the food last night taste weird to you?" He pressed on his tummy a bit more. "I feel like I'm gonna get the shits or somethin'." Sam says no. Then Sam notices something very dark on deans groin. He asks, "what is that? Dude you've got something on your crotch. Did you sit in somethin? Hang on...is that...blood?" Dean looks down in alarm. "Dude, come on! Were you landscaping down there or something? Don't mess with her stuff like that! You cut her!"

And then he figures it out and Dean is not amused and doesn't handle it well and there's a whole dramatic outburst and cursing...the usual.

 

..........

 

_***(Outline)***_

  
The woman who switched with Sam has tried hard to find out how to get in touch with him, but still can't locate him.

The woman in Dean's body is also trying to help, but she is finding herself starting to love this strong, lean body and is not as eager to do the switch back. Only a little hesitant, but still.  


 

..........

 

_***(Outline)***_

Dean is drunk, again. Cas is by his side. They are sitting, alone.

Dean muses about his strange experiences as a woman and mentions that he's always wondered what sex felt like to a woman.

Castiel tip-toes around the issue a little, but finally settles on a way to offer his services as a 'male' to Dean's new female body. He says something quick, suggesting that, 'It now would be appropriate and acceptable for them to do so,' but Dean is too drunk to catch it.

Dean laughs. He thinks he's laughing with his buddy.

Castiel is crushed, but makes a great effort to blow it off and smile at Dean.

Dean says something like, “No way are you doing the walk of shame out of my room, buddy!” Then Dean starts thinking about getting something he can use to simulate sex with a guy.

Castiel listens attentively. He shows up the next night with a grand assortment of adult novelty items for women, including dildos and vibrators. Dean is radically embarrassed and rejects it all. Then, in the end, grabs the whole bag and goes back to his room.

Castiel stands there, watching him leave with the bag. His face is at once happy to see that Dean wanted the items after all, and extremely sad.

Sam happens to pass Dean in the hallway and says “What's up”.

Dean loudly shouts, “Nothing!” and slams his door.

Sam comes into the war room, where Castiel is still standing, and sees the look on his face. He almost asks him a casual “What's up”, but stops and asks “What's wrong”, instead. Castiel changes the conversation.

 

..........

 

_***(Outline)***_

_ENDING - CONVERSATION_

Dean pulls his switcharoo partner aside to talk about their own private experiences and encourage each other a bit. She admits that she took his body for a couple of test drives, but always used protection. And she tells him that if he's ever feeling down and needs a pick-me-up, just walk into any gay bar, looking exactly as he normally does. Instant rock star status.

He tells her that if she needs a pick-me-up, she should know that his buddy, Cas, was finding it hard to be in the same room with her body. Dean kept catching him looking.

She verifies that Dean is talking about Castiel. He says, yes. She smiles, and then laughs a little bit and tries to subtly tell Dean that he's missing something important.

She overheard Castiel mentioning his ability to see souls and his musings at the complexity of human sexuality and gender. She heard the subtle sadness in his voice when he mentioned the fixed gender rolls held by some humans. He had mused about the differences in his own experiences with humanity, had he chosen a female vessel. She had noticed the way Castiel had looked at Dean, when he was definitely back. Dean, his friend...flexing and stretching and reveling in his own body, smiling and happy. She knew it wasn't her body he had been wanting. It was the person inside. She tells him that, and that's the end of their conversation. She walks back to the group, then, leaving Dean standing there.

 

 


	29. Quotes/Inner Thoughts/Monologues - Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***  
> 'THE TETHER' (WIP)  
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!
> 
>  
> 
> This is a collection of Dialog or Inner Thoughts that I came up with for Ash.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! ***
> 
> If you are currently reading 'The Tether' and don't want the possibility of spoilers DO NOT READ THIS!  
> These selections of dialog or inner thoughts may or may not make it into that fic.
> 
> If you don't mind getting a little preview of things to come, by all means - enjoy!
> 
> Please keep in mind...this set of drabbles is a dumping ground. A scratchpad. I wrote it all really fast, just to get it written down before I forgot the idea.

***** SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! SPOILER ALERT! *****

**IF YOU ARE CURRENTLY READING 'THE TETHER' AND DO NOT WANT SPOILERS, DO NOT READ THIS! THERE MAY OR MAY NOT BE SPOILERS IN HERE!**

 

 

“I know a guy. Theory guy. And a gal who can build anything. Both of ‘em smart as hell. And conveniently married. I’ll get ‘em on board. We’ll come up with what ya need. If anyone can.”

**..........**

“You got a theoretical physicist married to an applied physicist, so...ya know...I’d hate to hear their fights, but I bet the pillow talk is nerdy as fuck.”

**..........**

“Heaven runs in non-linear time, so...technically, we’ve already built the damned thing. Don’t know how that’ll translate on Earth exactly, but we’ll git ‘r dun.”

**..........**

“Imaginary time ain’t an actual dimension. It’s more like a construct for workin’ out stuff in real dimensions. BUT...just ‘cause it’s a construct don’t mean it ain’t real, brother. Throw that at your typical bean counter and watch their head explode!”

**..........**


	31. Stuff - No idea where any of this should go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what the title of this chapter says.  
> These are all just snippets that showed up and weren't usable in other stories. Not yet, anyway. If ever.  
> Sorry for the complete randomness. This is just a storage area for me.  
> Don't bother reading this stuff. It'll be weird, I'm sure

He wished with all his heart he could say he hadn’t expected something like this to happen...that he was normal enough to find this whole situation shocking. But he wasn’t normal. And this wasn’t shocking at all. In fact, it was typical. 

He’d made a very selfish mistake last night. He’d let Cas in. All the way. Everything was at the surface, now. All the things they’d both desperately wanted and  _ needed _ for so long were finally available to them both. Of course Cas would be punished for that. If you’re loved by Dean Winchester, you will pay a very heavy price. That’s just the way it is. The way it’s always been.

 

 


	32. First Attempt at Almost Paradise - for My Dean Calls Me 'Brother' Series

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was trying to write another installment of the My Dean Calls Me 'Brother' series and I got most of it written and then realized Cas would already know this stuff. And even though Cas hasn't had his human body long enough to have figured out how to experience pleasure AND not be ticklish at the same time, it's still...eh...iffy. So I decided not to go this direction.  
> The first several paragraphs are gonna stay in the final version, but all the rest is gonna be overwritten.  
> This is just...eh...it was cute for a minute. Who knows. I might still use some of it somewhere.  
> I included the whole thing. My apologies to readers who read this and then read the version I actually post to the series. There may be lots of overlap or very little. I have no idea right now.

Cas forced himself to pull it together. He dug deep, finding the most threatening, alien expression in his arsenal, and stared at Dean. “Do so at your peril...human,” he said, keeping his voice low and flat. He tilted his chin down, intensifying the stare.

Dean’s expression melted. He held on for one beat and then burst out laughing. It was loud and booming, eliciting a quick, annoyed, “Hey!” from Bobby, before the older man gave up and went back to his paperwork.

“What the fuck was that?” Dean barely managed to say through his laughter.

Cas ground his teeth and closed his eyes...the intense urge to punch Dean becoming almost too much. He slammed the lid of the laptop closed and all but tossed it onto the coffee table.

Dean was wiping tears out of his eyes as he continued to laugh uncontrollably.

Cas crossed his arms and glared at him.

Dean realized that he was maybe pushing it a little too far, but he still couldn’t stop laughing. He moved his hand away from Cas’s foot and let it rest back on the angel’s shin.

“Come on, man,” Dean pleaded. “You can’t get pissed at me for laughin’. Not when… I mean, I act like maybe I’m gonna tickle your foot and all of a sudden you’re General Zod!” He burst out laughing again. His face and neck were beet red. “What the hell, Cas? Where’d you even get that line?”

Cas was still glaring, but his brow furrowed with confusion and he squinted. “I don’t understand.”

“What’s that from?” Dean took a moment to cough and clear his throat. “Who said it?”

Cas scrunched his face further. “I don’t…” He huffed. “I said it! Just now!”

Dean stared at him in delighted shock. “You weren’t quotin’ somethin’?!”

Cas tilted his head. “No.”

Dean threw his head back and howled.

Cas curled his legs up and roughly shoved himself back away from Dean by digging both feet and one hand into the man. The force of it nearly sent Dean up and over the arm of the couch. The angel’s pant legs were rolled back down and his feet were clad in his socks and boots before he even managed to spin himself to sit upright. He mumbled something unintelligible under his breath as he began to collect the few items he’d placed on the coffee table.

“You’ve still got three hours to go,” Dean cautioned. “You stop now and it just means we’ve gotta start all over again tomorrow.”

“This is an absurd game. It’s over,” Cas growled, rising to his feet and tucking items under his arm.

Dean managed to calm his laughter and looked up at Cas. “Huh,” he said, considering the angel. He sniffed and shrugged, getting himself comfortable for viewing the TV once more. He raised his beer to his lips. “Ok.” He took a swig, no longer paying any attention to his friend.

Cas froze for a moment. He hadn’t expected that response. He shook himself out of it and walked quickly out of the room, back through the parlor past Bobby and into the kitchen. He thumped what he was carrying down on the table and stepped to the sink, rinsing out his mug and setting it in the drainer. He quickly gathered his things again, muttering to himself.

“It ain’t a good idea,” Bobby offered, not looking up from his paperwork.

Cas stopped for one beat, then continued to get his own papers situated into a neater stack.

“I know you’re new ta all’a this again, so...just tryin’a warn ya. You shouldn’t go back on that bet.” Bobby took a sip of his whiskey and finally looked up at the angel. Cas had his things bundled in his arm and was prepared to storm upstairs and stay there for the rest of the evening. Instead he stopped in the doorway between the kitchen and the parlor, staring at his old friend.

Bobby just watched him. He took another sip.

Cas stood there for a moment longer, contemplating whether or not he cared at all about what either of these men had to say at the moment. He decided he didn’t and without a word, he walked out of the room.

Bobby heard him move quickly through the living room, climb the stairs and slam the bedroom door shut. He leaned back in his chair and swirled his whiskey in his glass. Moments later, the bedroom door opened with a slight creak, footsteps on the staircase and the relative thump of Cas’s footfalls across the old wooden floor. The angel stormed back into the room and plopped his stack of papers and laptop down on the corner of Bobby’s desk. He leaned with both hands on either side of the stack and stared down at it, avoiding Bobby’s gaze.

“Why not,” he said in a low, furious growl.

Bobby slowly nodded. He sucked one tooth, briefly and sighed. “If ya make a bet and you lose and then ya don’t follow through, that makes you no fun to play with.” He leaned forward and set his drink on the desk. “Now… if you were little kids, you’d get all kinds a teasin’ and pesterin’ and mean shit from him and all the other kids. But you’re both adults. So instead of pesterin’ and being mean, he’s just not gonna play with ya anymore. He’s gonna leave you out of the game next time.”

Cas lifted his chin, clearly deciding that this was a very good thing and the solution to the entire problem. Bobby sighed heavily and shook his head.

“Freakin’ deja vu,” he mumbled. “So...just like seven years ago, when I first had to start coachin’ you in this shit so you two wouldn’t kill each other…” he sighed and wiped his hand down his mouth and chin. He kept his voice low enough for Dean not to hear. “...you might think tankin’ on this bet sounds like the solution to all your problems, right?”

Cas squinted.

“Wrong!” Bobby snapped. “‘Cause there’s nothin’ in the world you love more than for him to include you in shit and give you all his attention...which, by the way, is exactly why he picked this particular bet in the first place, genius! And while your dumb ass stands there and silently argues with me, I could line up a hundred people right now who’d back me up on this, ‘cause it’s what people, particularly idjit men, do in romantic relationships…we’re too stupid to know how to say ‘I love you’ most of the time!”

Cas stared and let that wash over him.

“So, look,” Bobby said with another heavy sigh, “you only got so many evenin’s like this left, here...” He stopped mid-thought and looked at Cas, taken off guard by the sudden rush of emotion. He forced down the lump that formed in his throat before it had a chance to choke him, and continued. “You gotta decide…’r you gonna spend it mopin’ by yourself in a locked bedroom, protectin’ your...dignity ‘r...whatever?” He waved one hand dismissively. “Or ‘r you gonna go back in there and spend the evenin’ with the guy you love so much it makes everyone around ya nauseous?!”

Cas stared at him throughout this little speech and a soft smile slowly spread across his face. He snorted.

“What,” Bobby snapped.

“I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable…”

“Ah...jeez,” Bobby groaned, rolling his eyes. “You’re the same in every freakin’ universe! Just say it ‘n get it over with, ya sappy bastard.”

Cas snorted again and smiled. “I had very little time to get to know you before. So, I didn’t notice. But seeing you here...like this...in quieter times...I’ve realized just how great an influence you’ve had on Dean and Sam. You were an excellent father to them. You should be proud.”

Bobby stared down at his glass. He held very still for several long moments, knowing that anything he said would break the stranglehold he was keeping on his emotions. Tears had already welled up in his eyes. The tiniest crack, and he’d end this evening a blubbering mess. Cas waited. He said nothing, aware that his friend needed a moment.

Eventually, Bobby sniffed and set his drink down. He rose from his chair and hobbled with obvious stiffness around the side of the desk. He finally looked up at Cas.

“You piss me off sometimes, ya know that?” He said it through a very tight throat and blinked tears out of his eyes, as he leaned forward and pulled the angel in for a hug. He held on for a bit longer than he normally would, still fighting to keep himself from cracking all the way. The delay gave Cas enough time to properly position his arms to hug the man back.

Bobby finally pulled back. He clapped a hand on Cas’s shoulder, then dropped his arm away.

“I’m gonna make Sam teach ya how to give a decent hug, before ya leave. You’re awkward as hell.” Bobby turned and began hobbling toward the living room.

“You’re injured,” Cas said, his brow furrowing with concern.

“No,” Bobby huffed. He continued on his way. “I’m old, outta shape, and I drink a lot. There’s a difference.” He motioned with his arm for Cas to follow. “Come on. I’ll talk to him,” he grumbled.

Cas grabbed his papers and laptop and followed. He watched as Bobby approached the back of the couch on the side where Dean was still sitting. The older man reached out and slapped the back of Dean’s head. Hard.

“Play nice!” he barked.

“OW!” Dean yelped. “What was that for?!”

Bobby didn’t bother to respond. He just continued over to the TV and turned it off. He reached down and turned on the radio instead.

“I was watching that,” Dean protested.

“Exactly,” Bobby barked. He turned to head back toward the parlor. “Make better use ‘a your time, boy! And stop being a dick.”

Dean rolled his eyes in disgust. “You like him better,” he grumbled.

Bobby continued to walk away. “Well, let’s see...he just offered to heal my achin’ joints and told me I’m awesome. You just whined at me and are a perpetual pain in my ass! I’ll let you do the math!”

Dean pursed his lips and shook his head, trying to hide the small grin that was trying to escape. He looked over at Cas, who was now standing at the other end of the couch. The angel was clearly still trying to decide what he was going to do.

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment...and then Cas sighed. He moved to the seat he’d previously been in and set everything but his laptop on the coffee table. In an instant, his feet were bare and his pant legs rolled back up. He turned, leaned back against the armrest and once again draped his legs over Dean’s lap. He looked at the man for another long moment, and then cracked open his laptop and got himself situated.

Dean was trying hard to keep his smile from being too wide. He finished off the last of his beer and set it down...then let his hand rest lightly on top of Cas’s ankle. He draped his forearm across Cas’s shins and gently kneaded the back of one calf with his hand.

“Pretty sure Bobby meant for both of us to stop starin’ at a screen,” Dean said. He began lightly tapping out the beat of the song on Cas’s leg.

Cas looked up at him, then reluctantly closed his laptop and set it on the coffee table.

“Your behavior is very difficult to understand.” He dropped his hands into his lap.

“Oh, yeah?” Dean murmured with at least some sincerity layered under the teasing.

“You've treated me with kindness and affection since I arrived, but now that you feel you have some type of control over me, you wish to do something that you know I will find to be extremely unpleasant and humiliating. Why?”

Dean pursed his lips, readying a smart-assed, flirtatious comment, but then he looked over at the angel’s very confused expression and realized he wasn't being fair. This was all still very new to this version of Cas. He hadn't spent the last seven years slowly learning how to flirt and tease and...play. Dean couldn't expect his friend to just fall into the same easy pattern. This Cas really didn't understand.

Dean sighed. “Ok,” he said with a grin. “I won't do it. You can relax.” He pat Cas’s legs affectionately and took his hand entirely away from Cas’s feet.

 

 

{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{FILL IN HERE}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}{}

 

 

“You  _ will _ bow down before me, Dean!” he said, doing his best imitation of the megalomaniacal super-villain. He giggled, delighted by his own joke. Then he raised up a bit and fixed his eyes on the angel’s. “Kneel before Cas!”

He took in another lungful of air and was about to continue with the ridiculously over-the-top impression, but the look on Cas’s face stopped him. The angel’s entire demeanor had changed. Dean immediately loosened his grip and released him everywhere, seeking to fix whatever had just gone badly wrong. 

“Cas? Hey!” He removed his hand from Cas’s wrist and placed it on the side of the angel’s face. “Cas! Baby, what’s wrong?” 

The longer Cas lay there without speaking, the more concerned Dean became.

“Did I hurt you?” Dean furrowed his brow further. He couldn’t imagine that he’d actually injured him. Cas was invincible. Dean knew that from first hand experience. He’d unloaded a whole arsenal into the guy before stabbing him in the heart, and Cas had just grinned at him like he thought it was cute. There was no way he’d caused him injury by wrestling with him...low power or not.

In the time it took for him to ask those quick questions, Cas’s expression had changed again. The pain Dean saw there...the defeat and despair...it was so unlike his Cas. He’d only seen him this way once - right after Cas found out the Father he’d loved and served faithfully his entire existence no longer cared enough about any of them to get involved. And even then, Cas had still had enough vigor and spite driving him to go take it out on himself and the world with a good old fashioned bender.

Right now, though, Cas looked like he barely had any fight left in him at all. His vessel had gone limp and he lay there, looking at Dean with a level of grief that was ripping the man’s heart to shreds...and scaring the hell out of him.

“Cas!” Dean nearly yelled. He heard the desk chair roll in the parlor and quick, heavy footsteps rushing into the livingroom. “Talk to me!”

With every second that passed, Dean moved closer toward disaster mode, readying himself to start combing through all their books on angels, trying to figure out what in the hell he’d just accidentally done to Cas. He barely recognized him like this.

Cas tried to respond, but only barely managed to say, “I’m fine,” before quietly unravelling on the floor beneath Dean. Tears streamed out of the corners of his eyes, wetting his hair and dripping onto the rug.

Dean tried to wipe them away, but they were coming too fast. “Baby,” Dean whispered. He had no idea what to say or do. He didn’t even know what he’d done to cause this. He was churning back through everything from the last several minutes, trying to piece it together and coming up with nothing.

By the time Bobby had made his way into the living room, Cas had reached up and wrapped his arms tightly around Dean’s torso, clinging to him like a drowning man. Dean was pulling them both up. He sat back, still straddling Cas’s legs, and holding him.

“What happened?” Bobby asked. All of his usual snark was absent. Dean looked up at him and shook his head. 

“I’m sorry,” Cas mumbled into Dean’s chest.

“What’re you sorry for? You didn’t do anyth-” 

“I’m so sorry,” Cas said again, and from that point repeated the phrase every few moments, over and over, like a mantra.

Dean realized he wasn’t going to get through to him. Whatever had triggered this, it was something this version of Cas hadn’t shared with him. And it was far bigger than anything Dean knew how to address. He felt the angel squeeze his ribs hard enough for them to ache. He tightened his hold on Cas as well and began slowly rocking him. 

Bobby sighed quietly and lowered himself to sit down on the coffee table next to them both. Dean looked over at him, hoping that the older man might have some answers. Bobby just reached out and pat Dean’s shoulder. He’d seen enough people have flashbacks or breakdowns to know that there wasn’t a lot either of them could do right now to help. The best they could offer their friend was to just stay with him. Let him get it out. 

After a couple of very long, painful minutes, Bobby slowly rose and strode out of the room. He returned with a box of tissues and three beers. Setting them down on the coffee table, he quietly dragged the side chair closer to them both and sat.

Dean briefly looked at Bobby, then buried his face back into Cas’s hair. A few tears were making their way out of his eyes, now, too. He didn’t understand what was happening. All he knew was that this version of Cas was once the same powerful, confident seraph he loved. But something had happened to him. Something awful. Something that had left him broken and traumatized, flightless, missing most of his grace… He looked much older. Exhausted. His clothes - what Dean had always jokingly referred to as his ‘battle armor’ - were a mismatched jumble. They didn’t even fit him - as though he’d had to scrape and steal to get them and just took whatever he found first. The confidence and intensity the angel had always had was nearly gone. Only glimpses of it had shown through during happy moments in the last two months. The rest of the time, Dean had watched a beaten-down shell of his Cas struggle to find even a moment’s peace.

A thousand scenarios of what might have happened to him poured through Dean’s mind, each one worse than the last. It reminded him how good he’d had it with his angel all these years...how lucky he now knew they’d been. And how much he missed  _ his _ Cas. 

But then he turned his focus back onto the weeping mess in his arms and wanted nothing more than to fix it. To protect him and make it better for him. It didn’t matter which version of Cas this was. It was still Cas. And Dean was determined to find a way for him to be happy...whether the angel decided to stay in this universe or not.

 


	33. Crowley's fragmented description of sex with angels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is an idea that I'd planned to use in The Wing Fic, but decided against, after it was written. I wanted to go a different direction with the concept, but this segment was making Hazel laugh, and I liked it to. So, it's getting thrown here, on the scrap heap, where it can be enjoyed completely out of context.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING: Very minor spoiler alert for The Wing Fic.***  
> If you're currently reading The Wing Fic and want absolutely no hints of what's coming whatsoever, then don't read this yet. However the spoiler is really inconsequential and only a minor reveal in the story.   
> I just wanted to give you a heads up.

Finally, Dean found the memory he’d been searching for:

_ ‘They’re very vocal, angels...’ _ Crowley’s voice came through clearly in his mind and he remembered the entire scene:    
Sitting at the bar. Crowley in his perfectly tailored suit and new cowboy hat. Four strippers, two men and two women, sitting at the table in the far corner giggling, throwing glances Dean’s direction and taking every opportunity to feel each other up, while he watched. 

Crowley leaned in conspiratorially, with a giant smirk on his face.

_ ‘The average, run-of-the-mill angel will squeal and moan and scream. Fun, yes, but not much different from any good whore. Cherubs, though, once you’ve tripped their switch, give off the eeriest screech. I’d say it’s irritating, but I’m usually laughing hard enough to not care. They get a bit manic...giggling and jumping about, whilst blurting state secrets… It’s very entertaining.' _

The strippers got up from the table and started dancing, hands moving freely over each others’ bodies as they began grinding on each other. They were extremely distracting, but somehow Crowley kept talking. Dean continued to watch the show. He allowed his companion just enough of his attention for him to glean fragments of essential information from the king's detailed recounting of his sexual exploits with angels. 

_ 'SERAPHS are an entire category of kinky unto themselves. Though, they’re nearly impossible to seduce...' _

_ ' ... extremely frustrating but can also lead to some very interesting power exchange dynamics...' _

_ '... IF you can convince them to pop their wings into the physical dimensions AND...' _

_ '...they eventually switch into this, sort of...gloriously willing, mildly-catatonic state. That’s when the real fun begins...' _

_ '...they growl. _ (*chuckles and takes a drink*) _ They honestly growl. Like a self-righteous cocker spaniel with wings...' _

_ '...be willing, because if you get them going, they'll absolutely expect to be satisfied…’ _

_ ‘...barely listen. Won’t take ‘no’ for an answer…’ _

_ '...giant, retractable claws...' _

_ ‘...deadly…’ _

_ ‘...finish the job or you could end up looking like a pile of leftovers in Jurassic Park...’ _

_ ‘...rumor is...with a strong, emotional attachment, their inner kitty will emerge…’ _

_ ‘...apparently, when they’re with someone they love…they purr…’ _

 

 


	34. A snippet of The Beach Fic - Sam and Cas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I kinda liked this but it's a little too dark and not quite what I'm gonna do with the chapter, so...rather than erase it...what the hell, I'll dump it here.
> 
> ***SPOILER ALERT***: There is a bit of a spoiler for The Beach Fic in this, so if you don't want ANY spoilers, don't read this until that fic is done.
> 
> I know I said I wasn't gonna tag stuff in this hodge podge of clips and scenes and junk, but this is an exception  
>  **TRIGGER WARNING: If drug/alcohol abuse and severe depression are a squick for you, just skip this. You ain't missin' much. Don't worry.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING - See summary above.
> 
> ***SPOILER ALERT*** for The Beach Fic

Sam accepted the bottle and pretended to take a long swig, but it was only to get it away from Cas. He’d wondered why the angel looked so out of it after only a few bottles of booze, until he noticed the empty bottle of prescription pain killers laying on the floor between Cas’s legs.

“Strange,” Cas mumbled, before Sam could put together a line of questioning.

Sam shifted to get more comfortable, and cleared his throat. “What is?”

“I used to think this music was so beautiful.” Cas lifted his phone to wave it at his friend. The wire to the one earbud he was wearing flicked against his chest.

“What’re you listening to?”

“Prelude to the Afternoon of a Fawn,” Cas said, staring at the screen. “Before that, the Meditation from 'Thaïs'. I’ve only had a few occasions to hear them, but...they were lovely. Now they’re nothing. I may as well be listening to static.”

Sam slowly nodded. “Yeah.” He reached under Cas’s knee to retrieve the pill bottle and raised it up for his friend to see. “Pretty sure these have somethin’ to do with that.”

“They have everything to do with it,” Cas agreed. “It’s why I took them.” He reached across Sam, indicating he wanted the bottle back. Sam slid it further away from his reach.

Cas rolled his head to the side and looked at him, trying to decide what he wanted to do. Sam met his gaze and held it - mainly to let Cas know he wouldn’t be getting the bottle back, but also to search his friend’s eyes for some hint of what was really happening. This was the worst he’d ever seen him, and given their history, that was saying a lot. For the hundredth time, Sam was strongly tempted to ask Cas about the true nature of the ‘bond’ he’d always alluded to having with Dean. He decided not to, though. If the answer really was anything close to what Sam thought it might be, asking Cas to talk about it now would just be cruel. 

Sam felt the light tug of Cas’s grace on the bottle, but then it stopped. Cas closed his eyes and rolled his head back to face the island.

They sat quietly for nearly a full minute, while Sam assessed his options for dealing with the situation.

“Look…” Sam began, “I know you’re in a pretty dark pl-”

“Why were you looking for me, Sam?” Cas sharply interrupted. He paused the music and pulled the bud out of his ear.

Sam sighed, forcing himself to keep his own sleep-deprived temper in check. “I think we might’ve found something, but...I’m not sure how it works. I need you to take a look.”

Cas nodded.

“Do you know anything about pocket universes?” Sam continued. “How they work or...have you ever heard of anyone creating or using one before?”

Cas smiled as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Yeah. I, uh...think I might have some idea.” He let his head loll to the side again to look at his friend. He saw Sam’s sincere face and snorted a single laugh, then began the long, arduous task of getting up off of the floor. 

Sam rose as well, getting to his feet quickly so he could assist. 

Cas was very wobbly and making little effort to fight it. He leaned heavily on Sam’s proffered arm, keeping a tight grip on him, and quietly chuckled.

“Am I missing something?” Sam asked. His frustration bled through and he definitely sounded pissed.

Cas looked up at him and smiled. “Forgive me. I, um… ‘Pocket universes’ are, uh… Well, that’s how Heaven works. For souls, I mean. One tiny, unique universe per soul.”

“So, it’s totally something an archangel would know how to make?” Sam asked. His tone shifted entirely and the burst of hope showed clearly on his face.

“Yes, of course… Wait,” Cas stopped moving toward the door and turned. His confusion quickly turned to suspicion. “Sam, how is this going to help us kill Michael?”

“It, uh...it isn’t. But I think...maybe...that’s how Michael is hiding-”

“He’s gone, Sam,” Cas said, raising his voice. “Michael destroyed him. There’s nothing left.”

“Look, I know you think-”

“If I had the slightest hope that Dean might still be alive, I would do anything I could to save him. Anything, Sam! I’d try everything!”

“I know you would,” Sam said quietly. He was still holding onto Cas’s arm, even though Cas had half-heartedly tried to shake him loose. “So would I. And that’s why I need you to look at this.”

“I can’t feel him.” The wildness was back in Cas’s eyes again. He didn’t seem to be listening and Sam had the vague impression that Cas wasn’t really talking to him anymore. He was just blurting the truth of Dean's annihilation out into the universe again, in the desperate hope that somehow, someone or something might hear and make it not be true. Sam understood that feeling all too well.


	35. Cas accidentally destroys Baby's paint job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Started writing this and decided I didn't want to finish. I'm hurting Cas's heart and making him feel guilty in at least three other fics right now, so...no need for more.

They’d finally made it back to the bunker just after midnight.

 _Fuckin’ witches! The job is NEVER over when it’s over with them!’_ Dean had complained while Sam and Cas had unloaded their gear from the trunk and begun dragging themselves through the bunker’s garage toward showers and food and bed. Dean had continued to grumble even after Sam left, and Cas had stood in the open door, silently watching him. Dean picked at a few spots on his Baby’s hood, before sighing in disgust. _‘Perfect. Just how I wanted to spend the whole damned day tomorrow...scrapin’ locust guts off every square inch!’_

It was Dean’s fatigue and frustration - the truly hurt edge to his tone when he said the last few words and let his fingertips drag over the hood of his beloved car - that’s what made Cas decide he should do it. With his injury still not fully healed and his power fairly low, he knew he couldn’t just mojo the offending substances off the car, but he’d learned quite a lot about how to clean things during his time at the Gas ‘n Sip. He’d figure it out. He could do this for Dean - lighten his burden, at least a little.

Cas waited for both men to fall asleep before making his way back to the garage and beginning the tedious work. He thought he’d be done in a couple of hours, but clearly removing dried on bug guts from a vehicle was not a trivial matter.

He’d searched the shelves in the garage and found the bug and tar remover spray and tried that first. When that had proven woefully inadequate for massive job ahead of him, he’d searched again and ended up employing a whole array of cleaners and scrubbers. In the end, he’d settled on using an SOS pad to remove all the bug bits and guts from all the surfaces (paint, glass, chrome) and then followed it with Ajax to get it clean and disinfected. In the past, Dean had mentioned putting wax on his car, so Cas assumed that the very dull looking finish the whole car now had simply meant that it needed to be waxed. That had always made the floors at the Gas ‘n Sip shine beautifully.

He found the jar of paste wax and the electric buffer and was still working on the front quarter panel, when the inner garage door opened at around seven am. Dean strolled in wearing his one pair of shorts, flip flops, and an old, stained t-shirt. He had a stack of polishing cloths in his hand, and a spotlessly clean chamois thrown over his shoulder. He nearly tripped on the top step, when he saw his car.

“Oh,” Cas said with a huge smile as he turned off the buffer and stood to face his friend. “I, um...I didn’t realize you’d be up so early.” He fidgeted and then gently set the buffer on the floor and straightened back up. He seemed at a loss for what to do with his hands, since he didn’t have his trench coat on, so he instead gestured awkwardly at the results of his hard work.

“I was just finishing up the third coat of this, uh...Turtle Wax...though it doesn’t seem to want to stick to-”

“wh-THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY CAR?!” Dean shrieked at a full octave higher than normal and raced toward his Baby.

Cas froze. His big smile evaporated. The pride he’d felt at having been able to do this, as well as the anticipation of Dean being surprised and very happy, vanished as he watched his friend’s panicked hands move over the surface of the car.

“No, no, no, NO, _NO!”_ Dean pleaded to the universe.

  



	36. The Paper Wad and Coaster War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another drabble that I will likely never finish. It has a beginning, middle, and end, with a few holes in between.
> 
> The Winchesters have been doing research for too long and Mary is bored.  
> Cas looks entirely too serious - clearly he needs to be messed with.  
> None of these people are a good influence on Jack.

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The entire text of this chapter was turned into a drabble fic called 'Limited Chill', after I realized the lovely commenters on this chapter were right - it just needed a sentence or two and it'd be done enough. So, I fixed it, posted it, and then removed the text from here.

Here's the link to the finished fic:  https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650265

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